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BOLINGBROKE 


A  UISTORICAL  STUDY 


VOLTAIEE  IN  ENGLAND 


BOLINGBKOKE 


A  HISTORICAL  STUDY 


AXD 


VOLTAIRE  IN  ENGLAND 


BY 

JOHN  CHURTOJ!!!  COLLINS 


NEW  YORK 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN  SQUARE 

188G 


PREFACE. 


The  Essays  comprised  in  this  volume  were  orig- 
inally contributed  to  the  Quarterly  Meviev)  and  to 
the  Cornhill  Magazine^  and  the  Author  has  to  thank 
Mr.  Murray  for  permission  to  reprint  the  papers  on 
Bolingbroke,  and  Messrs.  Smith  and  Elder  for  per- 
mission to  reprint"  the  papers  on  Voltaire  in  Eng- 
land. Both  series  of  Essays  have  been  carefully 
revised ;  to  both  series,  but  particularly  to  the  sec- 
ond, considerable  additions  have  been  made.  They 
have  been  collected  in  a  volume  uot  because  the 
Author  attaches  undue  importance  to  them,  but  be- 
cause he  ventures  to  think  that  they  throw  light  on 
two  singularly  interesting  episodes  in  the  political 
and  literary  history  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and 
because  he  is  willing  to  believe  that,  as  they  are  the 
result  of  more  research  than  will  perhaps  appear 
upon  the  surface,  they  may  be  of  some  use  to  fut- 
ure biographers  of  Bolingbroke  and  Voltaire. 


16aS26 


CONTENTS. 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE. 

Introduction S,  4 

The  Biographers 4,5 

Ciiaracteristics  of  Bolingbroke C-13 

His  Influence  on  English  Literature 14 

On  the  Course  of  Public  Thought  both  in  England  and  Abroad.  14,  15 

Ancestry  and  Early  Education 15-21 

Ilis  Youth  :  Licentiousness 22,  23 

Continental  Travels 23-25 

Marriage 26 

Entrance  into  Public  Life 27 

State  of  Parties  on  the  Accession  of  Queen  Anne 27-30  - 

Character  of  Robert  Ilarley 30-32 

•  St.  John's  Political  Attitude 32 

.State  of  Public  Affairs,  Prospect  and  Retrospect 33-35 

Character  of  Godolphin  :  his  Policy 35,  36 

St.  John  rapidly  rises  into  Distinction :  his  Appointment  to 

the  Secretaryship  of  War 37-39 

■  'The  Whigs  come  into  Power 39 

Duplicity  of  Ilarley,  shared  in  by  St.  John 39,  40 

Fall  of  Ilarley 41 

Retirement  of  St.  John 41, 42 

Overthrow  of  the  Godolphin  Administration:  Causes  of  same: 

its  Splendid  Services 42-40 

Administration  of  Ilarley  and  St.  John 45-47 

Difficulties  of  Ilarley's  Position 47-49 

Party  Writers :  Swift  and  his  Services 50,  51 

Marlborough 52 

•  \jMsseiisions  among  the  Tory  Party 52,  53 


vlii  CONTENTS. 

PAOE 

Ilai'loy  rising  into  Undostrvcd  Populmily  tlirougli  Guiscard's 

Unsuccessful  Attempt  on  hia  Life , 53-56 

vSecret  Negotiations  witli  France 50,  57 

Resentment  of  tlie  Whig  Party :  (Irisis  in  Parliament 58,  59 

St.  John  Victorious 59 

.  Tactics  of  tlie  Tories 59-01 

.'  Preliminaries  of  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht :  St.  John's  Negotiation 

with  France 01,  02 

Ilis  Promotion  to  the  Peerage 02,  03 

His  Diplomatic  Mission  to  Paris 03,  04 

Treaty  of  Utrecht  Concluded 05,  GO 

.  Reflections  on  the  Treaty,  and  on  Bolingbroke's  Conduct. . . .  00-08 

Dissensions  between  Bolingbroke  and  Oxford 08-70 

Bolingbroke  Determined  to  bring  Matters  to  a  Crisis 71-73 

Oxford  is  Removed 73 

Bolingbroke  Prime-minister:  his  Intrigues  with  the  Jacobites.  73,  74 

"  Tlie  Earl  of  Siirewsbury  Secedes 75 

The  Queen  Dies,  and  the  Tory  Party  Collapses 75,  76 


BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE. 


Importance  of  this  Period 79,  80 

Retrospect  at  the  Close  of  Bolingbroke's  Political  Career. ...  81 

Bolingbroke's  Schemes 82,  83 

His  Advances  not  Encouraged  by  the  Elector 84 

Arrival  of  the  King  in  England ; 84 

The  Whigs  come  into  Power,  their  Proceedings  against  the 

late  Government 84-86 

Bolingbroke's  Attempt  at  Self-justification  Unsuccessful 86 

Threatening  Prospects 80,  87 

Flight  of  Bolingbroke 87,  88 

Imprudence  of  this  Step 88-90 

His  Arrival  in  Paris  :  Interview  with  Berwick  and  Stair 00 

Impeached  by  Walpole :  Considerations  thereon 90-92 

Declared  an  Outlaw 93 

The  Pretender,  his  Character:  Reasons  which  guided  Boling- 
broke in  Espousing  his  Cause 93-97 


CONTENTS.  ix 

PAGE 

Bolingbrokc  Organizes  the  Jacobite  Movement  in  Paris  :  Dis- 
appointments and  Trials 97,  98 

Circumstances  Favorable  to  the  Cause 99,  100 

Negotiations  of  Bolingbrokc 100-102 

Inauspicious  Events  :  Death  of  Louis  XIV.,  Flight  of  Ormond  102-104 
Declining  Prospects  of  the  Jacobite  Cause:  its  Collapse. . .  104,  105 
Bolingbroke's  Services  to  the  Pretender:  is  Dismissed. . . .   105-108 

News  Arrives  in  London 108 

Boiingbroke  Attempts  to  come  to  Terms  with  the  English 

Government 108, 109 

His  Retirement  and  Private  Studies 109-112 

Connection  with  the  Marquise  de  Villette  and  Subsequent 

Marriage 1 13,  1 14 

Literary  Pursuits 1 14-1 1 0 

Friendship  with  Voltaire llG-120 

His  Desire  to  Return  to  England  repeatedly  Thwarted  :  at 

last  Acceded  to 121 

His  Interview  with  Walpole  and  Carteret 121-124 

His  Offer  of  Intercession  at  the  French  Court  Declined  by 

Walpole 124,  125 

Walpole  Averse  to  Bolingbroke's  Restoration  :  at  last  Forced 

to  Consent  to  it  by  the  King 126,  12*7 

Bolingbroke's  Double  Life 127, 128 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLING BROKE. 

Boiingbroke  as  an  Opponent  of  the  Ministry:  his  Position 

and  Influence  in  the  Political  Contest 131,  132 

State  of  Parties  :  the  Leaders  of  the  Opposition 132-137 

Organization  of  the  Opposition  :  Publication  of  the  Crafts-    . 

man ' 137,  138 

Boiingbroke  one  of  its  Chief  Contributors 138 

His  Interview  with  the  King 139,  140 

Death  of  the  King 141 

Critical  Aspect  of  Affairs 141 

Walpole  Restored  to  Power 142 

Factions  in  Parliament,  Venality  of  Oflicc-holders 142-144 

A2 


X  CONTENTS. 

Tactics  of  the  Opposition 144-147 

Nearly  Successful 14Y 

The  Excise  Bill 147-149 

Keview  of  Bolingbroke's  Contributions  to  the  Craftsman 

from  1727  until  1734 150 

Ilis  "  Remarks  on  the  History  of  England  " 151-153 

His  "  Dissertation  upon  Parties  " 153-155 

Bolingbroke  as  a  Writer  on  riiilosophical  and  Metaphysical 

Subjects  :  his  Life  at  Dawley 1 55, 156 

His  Friends 157^  158 

liolingbrokc's  Friendship  with  Poi>c 158 

His  Influence  on  Pope's  Mind  and  Studies 159-163 

Departure  from  England :  Reasons  for  same 163-165 

His  Residence  in  France :  Inquiries 165 

His  "  Letters  on  the  Study  of  History  " 166, 107 

His  "  Letter  on  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism  " 108 

Character  of  tlic  Prince  of  Wales 169-171 

Bolingbroke  Attempts  to  Ingratiate  himself  with  the  Piince  171,  172 

The  "Patriot  King:"  Considerations  thereon 172-175 

Walpole's  Iiiflucnoe  Declines :  his  Resignatkui 175,  176 

Bolingbroke  Arrives  too  Late  from  France :  his  Last  Cliance 

Lost 176 

Retrospect  of  Bolingbroke's  Literary  Career 176,  177 

His  Unworthy  Conduct  towards  Pope 177-180 

Last  Days  of  Bolingbroke 180 

Afflictions  of  Age 181 

Death  of  Lady  Bolingbroke 181 

Death  of  Bolingbroke 181 

Publication  of  his  Philosophical  Works 181 

Review  of  his  Philosophical  Works 181 

Summary  of  his  Philosophy 185-187 

Epilogue 187 


VOLTAIRE  m  ENGLAND. 
SECTION  I. 


Voltaire's  Stay  in  England :  an  Unwritten  Chapter  in  his 

Biography 191,  192 


COXTENTS.  xi 

Date  of  liis  Arrival 103,  194 

First  Impressions 195,  196 

The  Friends  he  makes  in  England :  Bubb  Dodington,  Sir 

Everard  Falkener 197,  198 

Interview  with  Pope 200-202 

Reverses  of  Fortune :  Family  Afflictions 202,  203 

At  Eastbury :  meets  Young 205,  206 

His  Views  on  Men  and  Manners 206-208 

Lady  Ilervey  :  Voltaire's  English  Verses 209 

Ilis  Double-dealing  in  Politics 210-212 

His  Effusiveness  as  a,  Critic 212 

Studies  of  English  Life 213-216 

Visit  to  France 216 

SECTION  II. 

Scrap-book  of  Voltaire :  a  Clew  to  his  Familiarity  with  Eng- 
lish Life 216,217 

His  Study  of  Newton's  Works,  of  Locke's,  of  Bacon's,  and 

of  Berkeley's 217-219 

Sympathy  with  the  Free-thought  Movement  as  Inaugurated 

by  Collins  and  "Woolston 220 

His  Literary  Productions  in  the  English  Language 221-224 

Preparations  for  the  Publication  of  the  "  Ileuriade" 224-226 

Issue  of  the  Work 226 

Its  Immense  Success 227,  228 

Piratical  Publishers 228,  229 

Domestic  Troubles 230 

Alterations  of  the  Manuscript 231 

Gomments  of  the  Press 231,  232 

Untoward  Incident:  Voltaire's  Clever  Escape 233 

British  National  Self-complacency  strikingly  Illustrated, , ,  233,  234 

SECTION  III. 

Voltaire's    Different   Literary    Undertakings    from    April, 

1728,  until  March,  1729 ;  .  231-286 

His  Growing  Familiarity  with  English  Literature. ..,....;  230,  237 

lili  Indebtedness  to  English  Men  of  Letters 237-240 


xii  CONTENTS. 

Retrospect  at  the  Close  of  liis  Slay  in  Kn^Iand 240,  241 

His  Respect  for  tlie  English 242 

Calumnious  Statements  Circulated  as  to  the  Cause  of  his 

Departure  from  England 243,  244 

Last  Interview  with  Pope 244 

Voltaire's  Return  to  France 245 


POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLIMBROKE. 


SUMMARY. 


Introduction,  p.  3,  4 — The  Biographers,  p.  4-6 — Characteristics  of 
Bolingbroiie,  p.  6-14 — Ilis  influence  ou  English  literature,  p.  14 — On 
the  course  of  public  thought  both  in  England  and  abroad,  p.  15 — An- 
cestry and  early  education,  p.  16-22 — Uis  youth  :  licentiousness,  p.  22, 
23 — Continental  Travels,  p.  23,  24 — Marriage,  p.  26 — Entrance  into 
public  life,  p.  2Y — State  of  Parties  on  the  accession  of  Queen  Anne, 
p.  27-20 — Harley,  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Commons :  his  char- 
acter, p.  30-32 — St.  John's  political  attitude,  p.  32,  33 — State  of  public 
affairs,  prospect  and  retrospect,  p.  33-35 — Character  of  Godolphin : 
his  policy,  p.  35-37 — St.  John  rapidly  rises  into  distinction  :  his  ap- 
pointment to  the  Secretaryship  of  War,  p.  38,  39 — Tiie  Whigs  come 
into  power,  p.  39— Duplicity  of  Harley,  shared  in  by  St.  John,  p.  40 — 
Downfall  of  Harley,  p.  41 — Retirement  of  St.  John,  p.  41,42 — Over- 
throw of  the  Godolphin  Administration :  causes  of  same,  p.  43-46 — 
Its  splendid  services,  p.  42, 43 — Administration  of  Harley  and  St.  John, 
p.  46,  47 — Difficulties  of  Harley's  position,  p.  47-49 — Party  wiitcrs : 
Swift's  services,  p.  50,  51 — Marlborough,  p.  51, 52 — Dissensions  among 
the  Tory  party,  p.  52,  53 — Harley  rising  into  undeserved  popularity 
through  Guiscard's  unsuccessful  attempt  on  his  life,  p.  53-56 — Se- 
cret negotiations  carried  on  with  France,  p.  56-58 — Resentment  of 
the  Whig  party :  climax  in  Parliament,  p.  58,  59 — St.  John  victo- 
rious, p.  59 — Tactics  of  the  Tories,  p.  59-62 — Preliminaries  of  the 
Treaty  of  Utrecht :  activity  of  St.  John  in  preparing  same :  his  pro- 
motion to  the  peerage,  p.  62,  63 — His  diplomatic  mission  to  Paris, 
p.  63,  64 — Treaty  of  Utrecht  concluded  :  Treaty  discussed,  p.  65-67 — 
Reflection  on  the  treaty,  and  on  Bolingbroke's  conduct,  p.  68 — Dis- 
sensions between  Bolingbroke  and  Oxford,  p.  68-71 — Bolingbroke 
determined  to  bring  matters  to  a  crisis,  p.  71-73 — Oxford  is  removed, 
p.  73 — Bolingbroke  Prime-minister  :  Jacobite  intrigues,  p.  74 — The 
Earl  of  Shrewsbury  secedes,  p.  75 — The  Queen  dies,  and  tlic  Tory 
party  collapses,  p.  75,  76. 


ESSAYS. 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE  * 

We  have  little  respect  for  the  public  conduct  of  Boling- 
broke ;  we  have  no  liking  for  his  personal  character;  we 
regard  his  political  writings  with  suspicion,  and  his  meta- 
physical writings  with  contempt;  but  we  cannot  transcribe 
these  title-pages  without  strong  feelings  of  regret.  It  was, 
as  he  once  bitterly  observed,  his  lot  during  life  to  suffer 
more  at  the  hands  of  his  friends  than  at  the  hands  of  his 
enemies;  and  what  was  his  lot  in  life,  has  been  by  a  rare 
refinement  of  misfortune  his  lot  ever  since.  The  edition 
of  his  works  by  Mallet  is,  if  we  except  the  type  and  paper, 
one  of  the  worst  editions  of  an  English  author  that  ever 
issued  from  the  press.  It  is  frequently  disfigured  by  mis- 
prints; it  swarms  with  errors  in  punctuation;  its  text,  as 
a  very  cursory  collation  with  the  original  manuscripts  will 
suffice  to  show,  is  not  always  to  be  depended  on.  It  was 
liurried  into  the  world  with  indecent  haste,  without  one 
word  of  preface,  without  any  attempt  at  arrangement,  with 

*  "The  Works  of  the  late  Riglit  Honorable  llcury  St.  John  Lord 
Viscount  BoHngbrokc,"  published  by  David  Mallet. 

"  Memoirs  of  Lord  IJolingbroke,"  by  George  Wingrovc  Cooke. 

"The  Life  of  Henry  St.  John  Viscount  Bolingbrokc,"  by  Thomas 
Mackni-'ht. 


4  ESSAYS. 

scarcely  a  line  of  annotation.  The  result  is  that  nine- 
tcnths  of  the  political  papers  must  be  as  unintelligible  to 
a  reader  who  is  not  minutely  acquainted  with  the  parlia- 
mentary controversies  which  raged  round  Walpole,  as  the  ^ 
"Letters  of  Junius"  would  be  to  a  reader  who  Avas  simi- 
larly ignorant  of  the  career  of  Wilkes,  or  of  the  adminis- 
tration of  Grafton.  And  what  applies  to  these  papers  will 
apply,  with  scarcely  less  propriety,  to  the  more  important 
works  on  which  Bolingbroke's  literary  fame  must  rest — 
to  the  "Letter  to  Wyndham,"  to  the  "Dissertation  on 
Parties,"  to  the  "  Remarks  on  the  History  of  England." 
It  would,  in  truth,  be  difficult  to  name  a  writer  of  equal 
merit,  who  is  more  dependent  on  a  judicious  editor  for 
those  little  services  which  so  often  turn  the  scale  between 
popular  recognition  and  oblivion.  But  a  hundred  and 
twenty  years  have  rolled  away  without  this  useful  func- 
tionary making  his  appearance,  and  the  works  of  one  of 
the  greatest  masters  of  our  tongue  are  confined  almost  ex-  v.* 
clusively  to  the  perusal  of  readers  who  can  dispense  with 
illustrative  assistance. 

In  his  biographers  and  apologists  he  has  been  equally 
unlucky.  The  "Memoirs  of  his  Ministerial  Life,"  which 
appeared  in  1752,  the  "  Life  and  History,"  which  appeared 
in  1754,  the  "Biography,"  by  Goldsmith,  the  "Memoires 
Secretes,"  the  "  Essai  Ilistorique,"  by  Grimoard,  have  fol- 
lowed one  another  in  rapid  succession  into  oblivion,  and 
into  an  oblivion  which,  we  are  bound  to  add,  they  justly 
merited.  Nor  can  we  speak  very  favorably  of  the  more 
elaborate  biographies  at  the  head  of  this  article.  The 
work  of  Mr.  Wingrovc  Cooke,  though  skilfully  executed, 
is,  like  his  "History  of  Parties,"  too  superficial  and  too 
inaccurate  to  be  ever  likely  to  attain  a  permanent  place  in 
literature.     Indeed,  the  "  Life  "  by  Mr.  Macknight  lias  al- 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  5 

readv  superseded  it.  Mr.  Mackniglit's  volume  is  fairly  en- 
titled to  the  praise  of  diligence  and  impartiality.  lie  lias 
carefully  consulted  all  obvious  sources  of  information ;  lie 
lias  availed  himself  to  the  full  of  the  work  of  bis  prede- 
cessor; be  bas  studied  with  care  tbe  bulky  correspondence 
in  w'bicb  Boiingbrokc  loved  to  pour  bimself  out,  and  lie 
bas  produced  in  consequence  a  work  of  some  pretension. 
But  bis  style  is  slipsbod,  and  bis  grasp  is  feeble.  Of  pro- 
portion and  perspective  in  tbe  disposition  of  bis  material 
be  bas  no  idea.  He  is  continually  expanding  wbere  be 
ought  to  retrench ;  be  is  continually  retrenching  where  be 
ought  to  expand.  Ue  gives  us,  for  example,  a  long  and 
tedious  dissertation  on  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht,  but  be  de- 
spatches in  a  few  pages  one  of  the  most  curiously  interest- 
ing periods  in  bis  hero's  career — tbe  period  between  17S3 
and  1736.  He  enters  at  length  into  all  tbe  questions 
-which  embroiled  tbe  Opposition  with  Walpole ;  but  of 
Bolingbroke's  influence  on  literature  and  philosophy  be 
says  scarcely  one  word,  of  bis  character,  nothing.  His 
acquaintance,  moreover,  with  the  literary  and  political  his- 
tory of  tbe  eighteenth  century  is  not  sufficiently  extensive 
to  prevent  him  from  habitually  blundering  when  tbe  course 
of  bis  narrative  obliges  him  to  touch  on  such  topics,  and 
such  topics  are,  unfortunately,  of  tbe  essence  of  bis  task. 
In  a  word,  Mr.  Macknight  has  produced  a  work  which  is 
beyond  question  the  best  biography  of  Boiingbrokc,  but 
be  bas  not  produced  a  work  which  students  can  consult 
with  satisfaction,  or  to  which  the  general  reader  will  be 
likely  to  turn  for  amusement.  lie  is  neither  a  Coxe  nor 
a  Soutbey.  Of  M.  Remusat's  Essay  we  shall  content  our- 
selves with  saying  that  it  is  a  sober  and  patient  study,  em- 
inently suggestive,  luminous  and  animated.  As  a  biogra- 
phy it  is  necessarily  defective  ;  as  a  critique  it  is  admirable. 


6  ESSAYS. 

Bolingbrokc  belongs  to  a  class  of  men  whose  peculiari- 
ties botli  of  intellect  and  temper  are  sufficiently  unmistak- 
able. The  course  of  his  public  life,  though  often  tortuous 
and  perplexing,  presents  on  the  whole  few  ambiguities.  /, 
The  details  of  his  private  life  may  still  be  collected  with 
singular  fulness  from  innumerable  sources.  For  nearly 
half  a  century  he  lived  among  shrewd  and  observant  men 
of  the  world,  and  of  these  some  of  the  shrewdest  and  most 
observant  have  recorded  their  impressions  of  him.  His 
speeches  have  perished,  but  his  writings  and  his  corre- 
spondence remain ;  and  both  his  writings  and  his  corre- 
spondence are  eminently  characteristic. 

Seldom  has  it  been  the  lot  even  of  the  great  leaders  of 
mankind  to  unite  in  the  same  dazzling  combination  such  a 
an  array  of  eminent  qualities  as  met  in  this  unhappy  states- 
man. His  intellect  was  of  the  highest  and  rarest  order — 
keen,  clear,  logical,  comprehensive,  rapidly  assimilative,  in- 
exhaustibly fertile.  His  memory  was  so  prodigious  that 
he  complained,  like  Themistocles,  of  its  indiscriminating 
tenacity ;  but  the  treasures  of  Bolingbroke's  memory  were 
at  the  ready  call  of  a  swift  and  lively  intelligence.  "  His 
penetration,"  says  Chesterfield,  "  resembled  intuition."  His 
imagination  was  warm  and  vivid,  his  judgment  clear,  his 
energy  almost  superhuman.  While  a  mere  youth  he  was 
distinguished  alike  by  audacity  and  tact,  by  rare  skill  in 
debate,  by  rare  talents  for  the  practical  duties  of  states- 
manship. His  powers  of  application  were  such  as  are  not 
often  found  conjoined  with  parts  so  quick  and  with  a  tcm-  -- 
perament  so  naturally  mercurial.  "  He  would  plod  " — we 
are  quoting  Swift — "  whole  days  and  nights  like  the  low- 
est clerk  in  an  oflSce ;"  and  even  in  his  latter  years  the  un- 
remitting intensity  of  his  studies  excited  the  wonder  of 
younger  students.     His  mind  had  early  been  enlarged  by 


THE  POLITICAL   LIFE   OF   BOLINGBROKE.  7 

foreign  travel  and  by  an  unusually  wide  experience.  In 
the  world  of  books  and  in  the  world  of  men  he  was  equal- 
ly interested,  and  he  was  equally  at  home.  "  lie  joined," 
whites  Chesterfield,  "all  the  politeness,  the  manners  and 
the  graces  of  a  courtier  to  the  solidity  of  a  statesman  and 
to  the  learning  of  a  pedant,"  The  most  accomplished  of 
his  acquaintances  have  observed  that  there  was  scarcely 
any  branch  of  human  knowledge  which  had  escaped  his 
curious  and  discursive  glance.  His  face  and  figure  were 
such  as  sculptors  love  to  dwell  upon ;  and  such  as  more 
than  one  of  his  contemporaries  have  paused  to  describe. 
His  person  was  tall  and  commanding;  his  features  were 
of  classical  beauty,  but  eager,  mobile,  animated ;  his  fore- 
head was  high  and  intellectual,  his  lips  indicated  eloquence, 
his  eyes  were  full  of  fire.  Grace  and  dignity  blended  them- 
selves in  his  deportment.  The  witchery  of  his  manners 
has  been  acknowledged  by  the  most  malignant  of  his  de- 
tractors, and  his  exquisite  urbanity  passed  into  a  proverb. 
"  To  make  St.  John  more  polite,"  was  the  phrase  employed 
by  a  poet  of  those  times  as  a  synonym  for  superfluous 
labor.  "Lord  Bolingbroke,"  says  Aaron  Hill,  "  was  the 
finest  gentleman  I  ever  saw."  From  the  multitude,  in- 
deed, he  stood  coldly  and  haughtily  aloof,  but  his  sym- 
pathy with  men  of  genius  and  learning  was  quick,  catholic, 
and  generous.  He  rescued  Fenton  from  the  drudgery  of 
a  private  school,  and  his  patronage  was  extended  not  only 
to  those  poets  and  wits  who  have  given  him  a  place  beside 
Ma3cenas  and  Alphonso  da  Este,  but  to  scholarship  and  to 
science.  One  of  the  most  distinguished  mathematicians 
of  that  century  has  recorded  his  gratitude  to  him,  and  even 
George  Wiiiteficld  relates  with  pride  how  he  once  num- 
bered Bolingbroke  among  the  most  attentive  and  eulogistic 
of  his  listeners.     Long  before  his  abilities  had  fully  ma- 


8  ESSAYS. 

tared  tlicmselvcs,  the  gates  of  St.  Stephen's  were  closed 
against  him  ;  but  not  before  an  audience  familiar  with  the 
eloquence  of  Halifax  and  Somers  had  pronounced  him  to 
be  the  first  orator  of  his  age.  "  I  would  rather,"  said  Pitt, 
"  have  a  speech  of  Bolingbroke's  than  any  of  the  lost  treas- 
ures of  antiquity."  The  charm  of  his  conversation  has 
been  described  by  men  whose  judgment  is  without  appeal, 
by  Pope  and  Voltaire,  by  Swift,  Orrery,  and  Chesterfield. 

His  character  was,  however,  so  unhappily  constituted  that 
these  superb  powers  were  seldom  or  never  in  harmonious 
CO  -  operation.  The  virtues  which  balance  and  control, 
sobriety,  moderation,  consistency,  had  no  part  in  his  com- 
position. His  impetuosity  and  intemperance  amounted  to 
disease.  To  the  end  of  his  long  life  he  was  the  slave  not 
merely  of  every  passion,  but  of  every  impulse;  and  what 
the  capricious  tyranny  of  emotion  dictated  had  for  the 
moment  the  power  of  completely  transforming  him.  He 
exhibited  by  turns  the  traits  peculiar  to  the  most  exalted 
and  to  the  most  debased  of  our  species.  His  virtues  and 
his  vices,  his  reason  and  his  passions,  did  not  as  in  ordinary 
men  blend  themselves  in  a  gradation  of  tints,  but  remained 
isolated  in  sudden  and  glaring  contrast.  His  transitions 
were  from  extreme  to  extreme.  He  was  sometimes  all 
vice,  he  was  sometimes  all  elevation.  AVhen  his  fine  intel- 
lect was  unclouded,  his  shrewdness  and  sagacity  were  a 
match  for  De  Torcy ;  his  dexterity  and  adroitness  more 
than  a  match  for  Marlborough  and  Godolphin.  When  his 
intellect  took  the  ply  from  his  passions,  there  was  little  to 
distinguish  him  from  the  most  hot-headed  and  hare-brained 
of  his  own  tools.  In  his  sublimer  moments  he  out-Catoed 
Cato,  in  his  less  exalted  moods  he  sank  below  Sandys  and 
Dodington.  When  in  retirement,  he  shut  himself  up  with 
the  "Tusculans"  and  the  Enchiridion,  he  lived  and  talked 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  9 

as  became  a  disciple  of  the  Porcli.  When  he  reappeared 
among  men,  his  debauclieries  were  the  scandal  of  the  two 
most  profligate  capitals  in  Europe.  His  actions  were  some- 
times those  of  a  high-minded  and  chivalrous  gentleman, 
capable  of  making  great  sacrifices,  and  distinguished  by  a 
spirit  of  romantic  generosity.  A  change  of  mood  would 
suffice  to  transform  him  into  the  most  callous,  the  most 
selfish,  the  most  cynical  of  misanthropes.  He  was  never, 
we  believe,  a  deliberate  hypocrite,  but  his  emotions  were 
so  transient,  his  conduct  so  capricious,  that  he  might  have 
passed  for  Tartuffe  himself.  The  fascination  of  his  man- 
ners and  the  brilliancy  of  his  parts  naturally  surrounded 
him  with  many  friends.  Friendship  was,  he  said,  indis- 
pensable to  his  being ;  it  was  the  noblest  of  human  in- 
stincts ;  it  was  sacred ;  it  should  be  inviolable ;  it  was  in 
its  purity  the  prerogative  only  of  great  and  good  men. 
His  letters  to  Prior,  to  Swift,  to  Alari,  and  to  Pope,  abound 
in  the  most  extravagant  professions  of  attachment.  His 
letters  to  Lord  Hardwicke  are  sometimes  almost  fulsome. 
But  what  was  the  sequel?  He  quarrelled  with  Alari  for 
presuming  to  advise  him.  He  dropped  Swift  when  the 
letters  of  Swift  ceased  to  entertain  him.  He  dropped 
Hardwicke  from  mere  caprice.  His  perfidy  to  Pope  is, 
we  believe,  literally  without  example  in  social  treachery. 
He  bore  the  most  excruciating  of  human  maladies  with  a 
placid  fortitude  which  would  have  done  honor  to  Stylitcs; 
but  the  slightest  error  on  the  part  of  his  cook  would  send 
him  into  such  paroxysms  of  rage  that  his  friends  were 
glad  to  be  out  of  his  house.  His  whole  soul  was  torment- 
ed by  an  insatiable  thirst  for  literary  and  political  distinc- 
tion ;  it  would,  we  believe,  be  impossible  to  find  in  liis 
voluminous  correspondence  half  a  dozen  letters  in  which 
he  does  not  express  contempt  both  for  the  world  and  for 

1* 


10  ESSAYS. 

tlic  world's  regard.  His  opinions  were  as  wayward  and  as 
whimsical  as  his  actions.  He  delighted  to  write  of  him- 
self as  the  votary  of  a  mild  and  tolerant  philosophy  which 
had  taught  him  the  vanity  of  ambition,  and  could  be  nour- 
ished only  in  that  retirement  which,  thanks  to  his  enemies, 
he  was  enabled  to  enjoy.  Before  the  ink  was  dry  he  was 
ransacking  our  language  for  scurrilous  epithets  against 
those  who  had  excluded  him  from  public  life.  Resigna- 
tion was,  he  said,  the  virtue  on  which  he  especially  prided 
himself.  His  life  was  notoriously  one  long  and  fierce  re- 
bellion. He  professed  the  greatest  respect  for  prescription, 
and  is  one  of  the  most  revolutionary  of  writers ;  for  the 
Church,  and  would  have  betrayed  it;  for  Christianity,  and 
was  in  the  van  of  its  most  ferocious  assailants.  He  deliv- 
ered himself  sometimes  in  rhodomontade  redolent  of  the 
ethics  of  Seneca  and  of  the  Utopias  of  Plato  and  Xenophon, 
and  sometimes  in  rhodomontade  breathing  the  spirit  of  the 
Prince  and  of  the  Fable  of  the  Bees.  As  the  subject  of 
Anne,  he  went  as  far  as  Filmer  in  his  estimate  of  the  royal 
prerogative ;  as  the  subject  of  George,  he  went  beyond 
Paley  in  depreciating  it.  As  the  minister  of  Anne,  he  was 
the  originator  of  the  Stamp  Act ;  as  the  subject  of  George, 
he  was  the  loudest  and  most  vehement  of  those  demagogues 
who  clamored  for  the  absolute  freedom  of  the  press.  In 
power  he  was  the  author  of  the  Schism  Act  j  out  of  power 
he  taunted  Walpole  with  deserting  the  Dissenters.  The 
age  he  lived  in  he  pronounced  to  be  the  Nadir  of  moral 
and  political  corruption ;  he  proposed  to  purify  it  by  a 
scheme  which  postulates  the  perfection  of  those  whose 
vices  are  to  be  cured  by  it. 

The  truth  is  that,  with  quick  sensibilities  he  had  no 
depth  of  feeling,  with  much  insight  no  convictions.  What 
would  in  well-regulated  minds  have  developed  into  princi- 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  11 

pie,  remained  in  him  mere  sentiment ;  and  liis  sentiments 
were  like  the  whims  of  a  libertine,  ardent,  fanciful,  and 
transitory.     His  head  was  hot,  but  his  heart  was  cold. 

In  the  latter  part  of  his  career  he  set  himself  up  as  the 
castigator  of  political  immorality,  and  as  the  loftiest  and 
most  disinterested  of  patriots.  His  own  public  life  had 
been  such  that  each  part  of  it  seems  elaborately  designed 
to  set  off  and  heighten  the  turpitude  of  some  other  part. 
The  shameless  charlatanism  of  his  career  at  the  head  of 
the  extreme  Tories  might  have  passed  perhaps  for  honest 
zeal — intemperate,  indeed,  but  pure — had  he  not  at  the 
head  of  the  extreme  Wliigs  found  it  expedient  to  cover 
his  former  principles  with  ridicule.  It  was  not  till  he  be- 
came the  hottest  of  factious  incendiaries  out  of  power  that 
men  realized  the  baseness  of  his  despotic  conservatism  in 
power.  It  was  not  till  he  betrayed  the  interests  of  St. 
Germains  that  it  was  possible  to  estimate  the  extent  of  his 
treachery  to  the  interests  of  Ilanover.  It  was  not  till  he 
became  the  teacher  of  Voltaire  and  the  Apostle  of  Scep- 
ticism that  his  unscrupulousness  in  forcing  on  the  Bill 
against  Occasional  Conformity  and  in  originating  the 
Schism  Bill  fully  revealed  itself. 

Some  of  his  biographers  have  indeed  labored  to  explain 
away  many  of  the  inconsistencies  of  his  public  conduct. 
In  other  words,  they  have  attempted  to  do  for  Bolingbroke 
what  in  ancient  times  Isocrates  attempted  to  do  for  Busiris, 
and  what  in  our  own  day  Mr.  Beesly  has  attempted  to  do 
for  Catiline,  and  Mr.  Christie  for  Shaftesbury.  But  the 
attempt  has  failed.  The  facts  speak  for  themselves.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  about  Bolingbroke's  repeatedly  declaring 
the  Revolution  to  be  the  guarantee  of  our  civil  and  relig- 
ious liberties,  and  that  both  before  and  after  his  fall  he  la- 
bored to  set  the  Act  of  Settlement  aside.    There  can  be  no 


12  ESSAYS. 

doubt  about  his  satisfying  himself  that  if  the  Pretender 
ascended  the  throne  without  giving  pledges  for  the  secur- 
ity of  our  national  faith  there  would  be  civil  war,  and  that 
he  moved  heaven  and  earth  to  put  the  Pretender  on  the 
throne  without  insisting  on  any  such  pledges.  It  is  cer- 
tain that  he  defended  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht  mainly  on  the 
ground  of  England's  exhaustion  being  suck  that  without 
repose  paralysis  was  iinniiiient;  and  that  not  long  after- 
wards he  was  lamenting  that  he  could  not  at  the  head  of 
a  French  army  violate  his  own  Treaty,  and  plunge  that 
country,  of  which  lie  liad  boasted  himself  the  savior,  into 
the  double  horrors  of  foreign  invasion  and  internecine 
strife.  It  is  certain  that  he  professed  the  principles  of  the 
moderate  Tories,  of  the  extreme  Tories,  of  the  Jacobites, 
of  the  Hanoverians,  of  the  Whigs  in  office  and  of  the 
Whigs  in  opposition,  and  it  is  equally  certain  that,  with 
the  exception  of  the  last  party,  they  all  taunted  liim  with 
perfidy. 

It  would,  however,  be  a  great  mistake  to  confound 
Bolingbroke  either  with  fribbles  like  the  Second  Villiers, 
whom  he  resembled  in  the  infirmities  of  his  temper,  or 
with  sycopliants  like  Sunderland,  whom  he  resembled  in 
want  of  principle.  His  nature  had,  with  all  its  flaws,  been 
cast  in  no  ignoble  mould.  The  ambition  which  consumed 
him  was  the  ambition  which  consumed  C«sar  and  Cicero, 
not  the  ambition  which  consumed  Ilarley  and  Newcastle. 
For  the  mere  baubles  of  power  he  cared  nothing.  Riches 
and  their  trappings  he  regarded  with  unaffected  contempt. 
He  entered  office  a  man  by  no  means  wealthy,  and  with 
expensive  habits;  he  quitted  it  with  hands  as  clean  as 
Pitt's.  Tlie  vanity  which  feeds  on  adulation  never  touched 
his  liaughty  spirit.  His  prey  was  not  carrion.  His  vast 
and  visionary  ambition  was  bounded  only  by  the  highest 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  13 

pinnacles  of  human  glory.  He  aspired  to  enroll  himself 
among  those  great  men  who  have  shaped  the  fortunes  and 
moulded  the  minds  of  mighty  nations — with  the  demi-gods 
of  Plutarch,  with  the  sages  of  Diogenes.  As  a  statesman 
he  never  rested  till  he  stood  without  a  rival  on  the  summit 
of  power.  As  a  philosopher  he  sought  a  place  beside  Aris- 
totle and  Bacon,  and  the  infirmities  of  age  overtook  him 
while  meditating  a  work  which  was  to  class  him  with  Guic- 
ciardini  and  Clarendon. 

This  was  not  to  be.  One  faculty  had  indeed  been 
granted  him  in  a  measure  rarely  conceded  to  the  children 
of  men — a  faculty  which  is  of  all  others  most  likely  to  mis- 
lead contemporaries,  and  least  likely  to  deceive  posterity — 
the  faculty  of  eloquent  expression,  llis  style  may  be 
praised  almost  without  reservation.  It  is  distinguished  by 
the  union  of  those  qualities  which  are  in  the  estimation  of 
critics  sufficient  to  constitute  perfection — by  elevation,  by 
rapidity,  by  picturesqucness,  by  perspicuity,  by  scrupulous 
chastity,  by  the  charm  of  an  ever-varying  music.  It  com- 
bines, as  no  other  English  style  has  ever  combined,  the 
graces  of  colloquy  with  the  graces  of  rhetoric.  It  is  essen- 
tially eloquent,  and  it  is  an  eloquence  which  is,  to  employ 
his  own  happy  illustration,  like  a  stream  fed  by  an  abun- 
dant spring — an  eloquence  which  never  flags,  which  is  nev- 
er inappropriate,  which  never  palls.  His  fertility  of  expres- 
sion is  wonderful.  Over  all  the  resources  of  our  noble  and 
opulent  language  his  mastery  is  at  once  exquisite  and  un- 
limited. Of  effort  and  elaboration  his  style  shows  no  traces. 
His  ideas  seem  to  clothe  themselves  spontaneously  in  their 
rich  and  v'aried  garb.  He  had  studied,  as  few  Englishmen 
of  that  day  had  studicil,  the  masterpieces  of  Frencli  litera- 
ture, but  no  taint  of  Gallicism  mars  the  transcendent  puri- 
ty of  llis  English.     His  pages  arc  a  storehouse  of  fine  and 


H  ESSAYS. 

graceful  images,  of  felicitous  phrases,  of  new  and  striking 
combinations.  As  an  essayist  lie  is  not  inferior  to  his  mas- 
ter, Seneca.  As  a  political  satirist  he  is  second  only  to 
Junius.  As  a  letter-writer  he  ranks  with  Pliny  and  Cicero, 
and  we  cannot  but  regret  that  so  hu-gc  a  portion  of  his 
correspondence  is  still  permitted  to  remain  unpublished. 

On  English  prose  his  influence  was  immediate  and  per- 
manent.    It  would  not  indeed  be  too  much  to  say  that  it 
owes  more  to  Doliugbroke  than  to  any  other  single  writer. 
Hooker  and  Taylor  had  already  lent  it  color  and  pomp; 
Dry  den  had  given  it  verve,  variety,  flexibility  ;  Do  Foe  and       j 
Swift  had  brought  it  home  to  the  vulgar;  the  Periodical 
Writers  had  learned  from  the  pulpit  to  endow  it  with  ele- 
gance and  harmony ;  but  it  was  reserved  for  Bolingbroke    / 
to  be  the  Cicero  of  our  tongue.    He  was,  in  truth,  the  found- 
er of  a  great  dynasty  of  stylists.    On  him  Burke  modelled      j 
his  various  and  exuberant  eloquence.     From  him  Junius      1 
learned  some  of  his  most  characteristic  graces.     The  two 
Pitts  made  no  secret  of  their  obligations  to  him ;  and 
among  his  disciples  are  to  be  numbered  Goldsmith,*  Gib- 
bon, Hume,  and  even  Macaulay. 

Ilis  genius  was,  it  is  true,  too  irregularly  cultivated,  his 
aspirations  too  multiform,  his  reason  too  essentially  under 
the  control  of  passion,  to  secure  him  any  high  place  among      j 
the  teachers  of  mankind,  and  yet  few  men  have  impressed 
themselves  more  definitely  on  the  intellectual  activity  of 

*  For  the  influence  of  Bolingbroke's  style  on  that  of  Goldsmith 
we  would  point  especially  to  "  The  Present  State  of  Polite  Learning 
in  Europe,"  and  to  the  Dedication  of  the  "  Traveller."  What  Macau- 
lay  learned  from  him  was,  we  think,  the  art  of  combining  dignity  with 
sprightliness,  copiousness  with  scrupulous  purity  :  many  turns  of  ex- 
pression, and  the  rhetorical  effect  both  of  the  short  sentence  and  of  <•' 
clause  iteration. 


TIIE  rOLlTICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  16 

their  age.  That  great  revolution  in  the  study  of  history 
which  found  its  first  emphatic  expression  in  Montesquieu 
is  undoubtedly  to  be  traced  to  him.  There  is  scarcely  a 
chapter  in  Gibbon's  great  work  in  which  liis  influence  is 
not  discernible.  By  the  philosophers  of  the  Encyclopedic 
he  was  recognized  as  a  leader.  Voltaire's  obligations  to 
him  are  confessed  by  Condorcet.  To  Bolingbroke  he 
owed  his  introduction  to  the  works  of  Bacon,  Newton,  and 
Locke;  much  of  his  philosophy,  many  of  his  historical 
theories.  Indeed,  Voltaire  appears  to  have  regarded  him 
with  feelings  approaching  as  nearly  to  reverence  as  it  was 
perhaps  possible  for  him  to  attain.  Idolized  by  ,Popc, 
Bolingbroke  suggested  and  inspired  some  of  the  most  val- 
uable of  Pope's  compositions  —  the  Essay  on  Man,  the 
Moral  Essays,  the  Imitations  of  Horace.  His  influence  on 
the  academies  of  Italy  is  evident  from  the  Elogio  of  Sal- 
vatore  Canella.  The  spirit  which  he  kindled  during  the 
administration  of  Walpolc  still  burns  in  the  epics  and  bal- 
lad of  Glover,  in  the  tragedies  of  Brooke,  in  the  best  of 
Akenside's  compositions,  in  the  stateliest  of  Thomson's 
verses,  in  the  noblest  of  Collins's  odes,  in  Goldsmith's  fine 
philosophic  poem,  in  the  most  spirited  of  Churchill's  Sat- 
ires. To  the  influence  of  his  writings  is  to  be  attributed 
in  no  small  degree  that  remarkable  transformation  which 
converted  the  Toryism  of  Ptochcstcr  and  Nottingham  into 
the  Toryism  of  Pitt  and  Mansfield.  He  annihilated  the 
Jacobites.  He  turned  the  tide  against  Walpole,  and  he 
formulated  the  principles  which  afterwards  developed  into 
the  creed  of  what  is  called  in  our  own  day  Liberal  Con- 
servatism. It  would  in  truth  be  scarcely  possible  to  over- 
estimate the  extent  of  his  influence  on  public  opinion  be- 
tween 1725  and  1742. 

IIo  sprang  from  an  ancient  and  honorable  race,  Avhich 


IG  ESSAYS. 

Iiad,  as  early  as  the  thirteenth  century,  mingled  the  blood 
of  a  noblo  Norman  family  with  the  blood  of  a  Saxon  fam- 
ily not  less  illustrious.  AVilliam  dc  St.  John,  a  Norman 
knight,  was  quartermaster -general  in  the  army  of  the 
Conqueror.  The  estates  which  rewarded  the  services  of 
his  son  passed  with  other  property  into  the  hands  of  a  fe- 
male representative,  wlio  became  the  wife  of  Adam  de 
Tort,  one  of  the  wealthiest  of  the  Saxon  aristocracy.  Their 
son  \Villiam  assuming  the  maiden  name  of  his  mother,  the 
name  Dc  I'ort  was  merged  in  the  name  of  St.  John.  The 
family  grew  and  prospered.  John  St.  John  was  one  of  the 
Council  of  Nine  appointed  after  the  battle  of  Lewes.  The 
widow  of  his  descendant  Oliver  became  by  her  marriage 
with  the  Duke  of  Somerset  the  grandmother  of  Henry 
VII.;  and  a  window  in  Battersea  church,  gorgeous  with 
lieraldic  emblazonry,  still  commemorates  this  alliance  with 
the  Tudors.  In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  the  St.  Johns  be- 
came the  Barons  of  Bletso ;  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  one 
of  them  was  created  Earl  of  Bolingbroke.  Nor  were  the 
representatives  of  the  younger  line  less  eminent.  The 
services  of  Oliver  St.  John  as  Lord  Deputy  of  Ireland  were 
rewarded  with  the  Barony  of  Tregoze  in  Wiltshire.  Dur- 
ing tiie  civil  wars  the  St.  Johns  came  prominently  for- 
ward. The  elder  line,  represented  by  the  Earl  of  Boling- 
broke, and  by  that  great  lawyer — over  whose  birtli  was 
the  bar  sinister,  but  who  was  destined  to  become  a  chief- 
justice  of  England  and  to  adorn  his  high  office — were  in 
conspicuous  opposition  to  the  Crown.  The  younger  line, 
represented  by  John  St.  John,  who  lost  three  sons  in  the 
Held,  were  as  conspicuously  distinguished  by  their  loyalty. 
The  days  of  trouble  passed  by,  and  the  subsequent  mar- 
riage of  Sir  Walter  St.  John,  a  member  of  the  Royalist 
branch,  with  Joanna,  a  daughter  of  the  chief-justice,  proba- 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  17 

bly  composed  political  differences.  The  young  couple  set- 
tled at  Battersca,  to  the  raanoi-  of  which  Sir  AValter  had 
succeeded  by  the  death  of  his  nephew.  The  virtues  of  the 
Lady  Joanna  were  long  remembered  in  the  neighborhood. 
Her  husband's  munificence  is  more  imperisbably  recorded 
in  the  school  which  he  founded  nearly  two  centuries  ago, 
and  which  has  ever  since  been  one  of  the  ornaments  of 
Battersea.  His  crest  and  motto  may  still  be  seen  over  the 
gate  ;  his  portrait  still  adorns  the  walls.  He  died  at  an 
advanced  age  in  1708.  The  issue  of  this  marriage  was  a 
daughter  Barbara  and  a  son  Henry,  of  whom  we  know  lit- 
tle, and  that  little  is  not  to  his  credit.  The  dissipated 
habits  of  the  young  man  probably  alarming  his  parents, 
they  resorted  to  the  expedient  usual  in  such  cases,  and 
the  lad  became  the  husband  of  Mary,  second  daughter  and 
joint -heiress  of  Robert  Rich,  Earl  of  Warwick.*  The 
remedy,  however,  only  aggravated  the  disease.  Henry  be- 
came worse  than  ever.  At  last  he  brought  his  reckless 
and  dissolute  career  to  a  climax  by  the  murder  of  St.  Will- 
iam Escourt  in  a  brawl.  He  was  arrested.  His  friends 
were  in  despair.  After  much  anxious  deliberation,  his 
counsel  advised  him  to  plead  guilty,  and  to  throw  himself 
on  the  mercy  of  the  King.  For  some  time  it  was  doubt- 
ful whether  the  united  influence  of  the  St.  Johns  and  the 
Riches  could  prevent  him  from  expiating  his  crime  at  Ty- 
burn, or  whether  indeed  the  King  could,  even  if  he  wished 
it,  stretch  Lis  prerogative  so  far  as  to  pardon  a  subject 
convicted  of  so  grave  an  offence.     At  last  the  culprit  was 

*  The  youth  appears  to  have  added  to  his  other  vices  that  of  liy- 
pocrisy,  as  we  find  him  described  in  the  "Autobiography  of  Mary, 
Countess  of  Warwick,"  as  a  "young  gentleman  very  good-natured 
and  viceless."  See  "  Autobiograpliy,"  edited  by  T.  C.  Croker  for 
the  Percy  Society,  p.  35. 


18  ESSAYS. 

periiiittcd  to  retire  to  Battersca,  A  bribe  was  accepted. 
Tlie  case  was  dropped,  and  he  dragged  on  a  listless  and 
good-for-nothing  life  for  nearly  half  a  century  longer.  Six 
years  before  this  event  his  wife  had  borne  him  a  child,  who 
was  destined  to  inherit  all  bis  vices,  but  with  those  vices 
to  unite  abilities  which,  if  properly  directed,  and  less  un- 
liappily  tempered,  might  have  given  him  a  place  in  history 
beside  Pericles  and  Chatham,  and  a  place  in  letters  beside 
Bacon  and  Burke.  Henry  St.  John,  afterwards  Lord 
Viscount  Bolingbroke,  was  born  at  Battersea  in  the  Octo- 
ber of  1C78,  and  was  baptized  on  the  tenth  of  that  month. 
The  house  in  which  he  first  saw  the  light  has,  with  the 
exception  of  one  wing,  which  is  still  preserved,  been  long 
since  levelled  with  the  ground. 

For  his  early  education  he  was  indebted  to  his  grand- 
parents, who  shared  the  family  residence  with  their  son 
and  daughter-in-law.  Sir  Walter  was  a  member  of  the 
Established  Church,  and  appears  to  have  been  a  kind  and 
tolerant  man.  But  his  wife  had  been  bred  among  the 
Puritans,  and  to  the  ascetic  piety  of  her  sect  she  added,  we 
suspect,  something  of  her  father's  moroseness.  She  ruled 
the  house  at  Battersea.  She  superintended  the  education 
of  her  grandchild.  It  was  conducted  on  principles  of  in- 
judicious austerity,  and  Bolingbroke  never  recurred  to  this 
period  of  his  life  without  disgust.  The  good  lady  delight- 
ed in  perusing  the  gigantic  tomes  in  which  the  Puritan 
Fathers  discussed  the  doctrine  of  the  Eucharist  and  the 
Atonement.  Patrick's  "  Mensa  Mystica"  had  been  written 
under  her  roof,  and  she  had  shared  with  her  husband  the 
honor  of  the  dedication  ;  but  Patrick  held  only  the  second 
place  in  her  affections — her  favorite  was  Dr.  Manton.  This 
stupendous  theologian — five  of  his  folios  still  slumber  in 
our  libraries — prided  himself  on  having  written  a  hundred 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  19 

and  nineteen  sermons  on  the  liundred  and  nineteenth 
Psalm,  and  to  the  perusal  of  these  hundred  and  nineteen 
sermons  she  compelled  her  grandson  to  betake  himself.* 
There  is  reason  for  believing  that  the  child  was  for  some 
time  under  the  tuition  of  Daniel  Burgess,  a  learned  and 
eccentric  Nonconformist,  who  is  now  remembered  chiefly 
as  the  butt  of  Swift,  but  who  was  in  those  days  celebrated 
as  one  of  the  most  popular  of  metropolitan  preachers,  Ilis 
definition  of  a  lawsuit  and  of  thorough-paced  doctrine  arc 
still  treasured  by  collectors  of  good  sayings. 

In  due  time  Henry  was  removed  to  Eton,  where  he  re- 
mained for  some  years.  About  his  career  there  tradition 
is  silent.  We  know  that  Walpole  was  one  of  his  contem- 
poraries ;  and  Coxe  has  added  that  the  seeds  of  that  long 
and  bitter  rivalry  which  ever  afterwards  existed  between 
the  two  school-fellows  were  sown  in  the  class-room  and  the 
play-ground.  This,  however,  is  highly  improbable.  Wal- 
pole acquitted  himself  creditably  during  his  school  career, 
and  is  not  likely  either  by  indolence  or  dulness  to  have 
permitted  a  lad  two  years  his  junior  to  assume  the  posi- 
tion of  a  rival.  WHiat  became  of  him  after  leaving  Eton 
it  is  now  impossible  to  discover.  His  career  is  indeed  at 
this  point  involved  in  more  obscurity  than  his  biographers 
seem  to  suspect.  They  assert,  for  example,  that  on  leaving 
Eton  he  matriculated  at  Oxford,  and  became  an  undergrad- 
uate of  Christ  Church,  and  they  have  described  with  some 
circumstantiality  his  University  career.  But  of  this  resi- 
dence at  Oxford  there  is  no  proof  at  .all.  There  is  no  entry 
of  his  matriculation  on  the  books  of  the  University,  and 
these  books  are  not,  we  believe,  in  any  way  deficient  dur- 

*  This  is  Bolingbroke's  own  account,  but  a  reference  to  Dr.  Man- 
ton's  folio  sliows  tliat  the  number  was  not  a  hundred  and  nineteen, 
but  a  hundred  and  uiuety. 


20  ESSAYS. 

ing  the  period  of  his  supposed  connection  with  Oxford. 
There  is  no  trace  of  his  residence  at  Christ  Churcli  on  tlic 
Buttery  Lists,  and  the  Buttery  Lists  have  from  tlie  mid- 
summer of  1G95  been  kept  with  scrupulous  exactness. 
Tiiere  is  no  trace  of  his  residence  to  be  found  in  the  entry 
books  of  the  Dean.  AVe  cannot  find  any  alhision  to  his 
ever  having  been  a  resident  member  of  the  University  in 
the  correspondence  of  those  accomplished  men  who  must 
Iiave  been  his  contemporaries.  But  one  circumstance  seems 
to  us  conclusive.  He  was  the  patron  of  John  Philips,  and 
that  pleasing  poet  has  in  two  of  his  poems  spoken  of  hiin 
in  terms  of  exaggerated  encomium.  Philips  was  a  student 
of  Christ  Church,  and  in  his  "Cyder"  he  takes  occasion 
to  celebrate  the  eminent  men  connected  with  that  distin- 
guished seminary ;  but  though  he  mentions  Uarcourt  and 
Bromley,  he  makes  no  allusion  to  St.  John.  The  error,  we 
suspect,  arose  from  this.  On  the  occasion  of  Queen  Anne's 
visit  to  Oxford  in  1702  St.  John  was  made  an  honorary 
doctor  and  entered  on  the  books  of  Christ  Church.  He 
was  proud  of  the  honor  whicli  the  College  of  Atterbury 
and  Ilarcourt  had  done  him,  and  not  only  delighted  to 
speak  of  himself  as  a  Christ  Church  man,  but  ever  after- 
wards considered  that  a  member  of  that  foundation  had  a 
special  claim  to  his  patronage.  But  Christ  Church  is  not 
entitled  to  number  him  among  Jier  sons. 

AVherever  he  pursued  his  studies,  he  probably  pursued 
them  with  assiduity.  lie  was  all  his  life  distinguished  by 
attainments  the  groundwork  of  which  is  seldom  or  never 
laid  in  after-years.  The  specimen  which  he  has  left  of  his 
Latin  composition,  with  the  letters  to  Alari,  prove  that  he 
had  paid  some  attention  to  the  niceties  of  verbal  scholar- 
ship. Much  of  the  recondite  learning  whicli  he  so  osten- 
tatiously paraded  in  his  philosophical  works  was  it  is  evi- 


TEE  rOLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  21 

dent,  tlie  trophy  of  adroit  plagiarism,  but  it  is  no  less 
evident  —  as  every  page  of  his  writings  shows — that  his 
classical  acquirements,  if  not  exact,  were  unusually  exten- 
sive. He  was  conversant  with  the  Roman  prose  writers, 
from  Varro  to  Aulus  Gellius,  and  the  frequency  with  which 
he  draws  on  them  for  purposes  of  analogy,  comment,  and 
illustration,  the  felicity  with  which  he  adapts  their  senti- 
ments and  opinions,  the  ready  propriety  with  which  their 
allusions  and  anecdotes  respond  to  his  call  is  a  sufficient 
guarantee  for  the  assimilative  thoroughness  with  which  he 
had  perused  them.  Indeed  his  acquaintance  with  Cicero 
and  Seneca  appears  to  have  been  such  as  few  scholars  have 
possessed.  He  had  studied  them  as  Montaigne  studied 
Plutarch,  as  Bacon  studied  Tacitus.  To  the  poets  he  had 
not,  we  suspect,  paid  the  same  attention,  though  his  quota- 
tions from  Lucretius,  Horace,  and  Virgil  are  often  exqui- 
sitely happy.  Whatever  may  have  been  his  attainments 
in  Greek,  he  had  at  least  mastered  the  rudiments,  could 
discuss  the  relative  signification  of  words,  and  had  read  in 
some  form  or  other  the  principal  orators.  Homer  and  He- 
siod  among  the  poets,  and  most  of  the  historians. 

It  is  the  privilege  of  later  years  to  mature  and  apply, 
rarely  to  initiate,  such  studies.  We  are  therefore  inclined 
to  suspect  that  his  biographers  have  plunged  him  into  de- 
bauchery a  little  prematurely,  and  that  these  years  of  his 
life,  wherever  they  may  have  been  passed,  were  judicious- 
ly and  profitably  employed.  But  the  scene  soon  changed. 
In  1697  we  find  him  in  London,  where  he  abandoned  him- 
self to  the  dominion  of  the  two  passions  which  ever  after- 
wards ruled  him — inordinate  ambition  and  inordinate  love 
of  pleasure.  At  thirty  lie  was  in  the  habit  of  observing 
that  liis  heroes  were  Alcibiades  and  Fetronius;  at  twenty 
his  model,  he  said,  was  his  cousin  John  Wilmot,  Earl  of 


22  ESSAYS. 

llochester.  Tliat  unhappy  nobleman  had,  ten  years  before, 
terminated  a  career  to  which  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a 
parallel  in  the  annals  of  human  folly.  Everything  that  can 
make  the  life  of  man  splendid,  prosperous,  and  happy, 
both  Nature  and  Fortune  had  lavished  on  him.  Nature 
had  endowed  him  with  abilities  of  a  higli  order,  with  liter- 
ary instincts,  with  refined  tastes,  with  brilliant  wit,  with  a 
lyrical  genius  which,  if  properly  cultivated,  might  have 
placed  him  beside  Berangcr  and  Ilerrick,  with  a  hand- 
some and  engaging  person,  with  manners  singularly  win- 
ning and  graceful.  Fortune  had  added  rank  and  opulence, 
and  had  thus  opened  out  to  him  all  sources  of  social  and 
intellectual  enjoyment;  had  enabled  him  to  gratify  every 
ambition,  to  cultivate  every  taste,  and  to  enter  that  sphere 
where  the  qualities  that  distinguished  him  could  be  seen 
to  the  greatest  advantage.  Unliappily,  however,  a  de- 
praved and  diseased  mind  counteracted  these  inestimable 
blessings.  lie  was  anxious  only  to  be  pre-eminent  in  in- 
famy. A  premature  death  had  been  the  just  penalty  for 
his  madness;  but  the  tradition  of  his  genius  and  of  his 
brilliant  parts  had,  in  the  eyes  of  young  and  giddy  men, 
lent  a  romantic  interest  to  his  career.  They  learned  his 
poems  by  heart.  They  retailed  his  witticisms.  They  list- 
ened with  eagerness  to  stories  about  his  bravery  at  Ber- 
gen, his  wit-combats  with  Villicrs,  his  amours,  his  convivial 
excesses,  and  they  were  anxious  to  follow  in  his  footsteps. 
Indeed,  the  influence  of  Rochester  on  the  youth  of  London 
in  the  latter  quarter  of  the  seventeenth  century  appears  to 
have  resembled,  in  some  degree,  the  influence  of  Byron  on 
the  same  class  a  hundred  and  twenty  years  later.  But  St. 
John  was  not  content  to  be  a  mere  zany,  he  aspired  to  ri- 
val his  master  as  a  wit,  and  to  outstrip  liim  as  a  libertine. 
He  was  now  in  his  twentieth  year,  overflowing  with  ani- 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLIXGBROKE.  23 

mal  spirits,  drank  with  vanity,  and  burning  to  indemnify 
himself  for  the  restraints  of  Eton  and  Battersea.  lie  allied 
himself  with  a  band  of  reprobates  who  were  striving  to 
recall,  under  the  purer  rule  of  William,  the  wild  license  of 
the  Restoration,  and  he  became,  while  a  mere  boy,  the  worst 
member  of  that  bad  clique.  His  excesses  moved  astonish- 
ment even  in  those  who  had  witnessed  the  orgies  of  his 
cousin.  Ue  passed  whole  weeks  in  unbroken  rounds  of 
riotous  debauchery.  He  could  drink  down  veteran  drunk- 
ards. He  ran  naked  through  the  Park.*  He  was  a  match 
for  old  AVycherley  in  ribald  profanity  and  in  all  the  arts 
of  licentious  intrigue.  To  the  poetical  genius  of  Roches- 
ter he  had  indeed  no  pretension,  but  he  did  his  best  to 
remedy  the  deficiency.  He  sought  the  acquaintance  of 
Dryden,  whom  he  visited  on  more  than  one  occasion  in 
Gerrard  Street.  The  poet  had  just  completed  his  version 
of  Virgil,  and  St.  John  wrote  a  copy  of  verses  which  may 
still  be  read  among  the  commendatory  poems  prefixed  to 
that  work.  They  are  remarkable  for  nothing  but  the 
grossness  of  their  imagery,  and  for  the  skill  with  which 
literary  compliment  is  conveyed  in  the  allusions  of  the 
bagnio. 

He  now  set  out  on  his  travels,  probably  leaving  Eng- 
land in  the  autumn  of  1697.  He  was  away  nearly  two 
years.  Of  his  movements  during  that  time  nothing  cer- 
tain is  known,  but  it  may  be  gathered  from  an  allusion  in 
one  of  his  letters  that  he  visited  Milan.  Whatever  por- 
tion of  this  period  he  may  have  spent  in  Italy,  wc  are  in- 
clined to  think  with  Mr.  Macknight  that  much  the  greater 
part  of  it  was  spent  at  Paris.     The  Peace  of  Ryswick  had 

*  Tlic  antlioritv  for  this  is  Ooldsniitli.  I'ullnitz  was  an  cvc-witncss 
of  a  siiiiiiaily  disgusting  frcalc  in  the  same  place. — Mcmoir.t,  vol.  ii., 
p.  470. 


/ 


'2i  ESSAYS. 

just  been  concluded,  and  the  attractions  of  the  French  cap- 
ital were  once  more  open  to  English  visitors.  In  1698 
the  P^arl  of  Jersey  had  succeeded  Portland  as  Ambassador. 
lie  was  connected  by  family  tics  with  St.  John.  lie  was 
on  intimate  terms  with  Sir  Walter,  and  was  in  a  position 
to  be  of  great  service  to  a  lad  beginning  the  world.  It  is 
indeed  by  no  means  improbable  that  young  St.  John,  if 
not  attached  to  liis  suite,  at  all  events  shared  his  protec- 
tion, and  was  introduced  by  him  to  the  salons  of  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Germain  and  to  the  antechambers  of  Marly.  It 
would  be  difficult  on  any  other  supposition  to  account  for 
the  delicate  purity  with  which  he  ever  afterwards  both 
wrote  and  spoke  the  French  language,  and  for  his  posses- 
sion of  an  accent  so  perfect  that  even  the  fastidious  ear  of 
Voltaire  was  unable  to  detect  a  jarring  chord.  With  this 
useful  accomplishment  he  returned  to  England  about  the 
beginning  of  1700.  He  at  once  devoted  himself  to  his 
old  pursuits,  which  appear  to  have  been  in  a  measure  in- 
terrupted during  his  residence  on  the  Continent.  He  com- 
posed a  long  Pindaric  ode,  in  which  he  informs  his  read- 
ers that  he  had  for  some  time  been  "  wandering  from  the 
Muses'  seat"  and  been  visiting  the  "gloomy  abodes  of 
Wisdom  and  Philosophy,"  but  that  he  had  repented  of  his 
folly,  and  was  returning  to  Poesy  and  Love.  His  return 
to  the  latter  took  the  form  of  an  intrigue  with  an  orange 
girl  who  hung  about  the  lobby  of  the  Court  of  Requests ; 
his  return  to  the  former,  a  poetical  epistle  addressed  to  his 
sordid  paramour.  These  verses  Lord  Stanhope  not  only 
pronounces  to  be  beautiful,  but  sees  in  them  evidence  of 
genius.  They  appear  to  us  neither  better  nor  worse  than 
a  dozen  other  poems  of  a  similar  character  which  might 
be  selected  from  the  miscellanies  of  that  day,  and  the  mis- 
cellanies of  that  day  moved  the  derision  of  Pope.     Many 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  25 

years  later,  indeed,  lie  produced  three  stanzas,  which  are 
by  no  means  contemptible.* 

The  ostentatious  dissoluteness  of  his  life  was  about  this 
time  aggravated  by  his  taking  a  step  which  must  have 
made  Sir  Walter  tremble  for  the  family  estates.  A  Avom- 
an  whose  beauty  was  a  tradition  in  London  circles,  even 
as  late  as  the  days  of  Goldsmith,  but  whose  extravagance 
had  already  completed  the  ruin  of  three  lovers,  was  now 
under  his  protection.  It  became  necessary  to  resort  to 
extreme  measures.  Menaces  were  vain  :  exhortations  were 
vain.  The  abilities  of  the  young  libertine  were  unques- 
tionably great.  His  family  was  influential.  Uc  was  now 
twenty-two,  and  his  relatives  wisely  resolved  to  appeal  to 
the  only  passion  which  rivalled  in  any  degree  his  devotion 
to  pleasure — the  passion  of  ambition.     They  offered  him 

*  As  these  verses  have  escaped  the  notice  of  all  Bolingbroke's  bi- 
ographers, we  will  transcribe  them.  They  were  written  for  insertion 
in  the  masque  of  "  Alfred,"  as  part  of  "  Rule  Britannia,"  and  are  to 
bo  found  in  Davies's  "  Life  of  Garrick,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  S9. 

"Should  war,  should  faction  shake  the  isle. 
And  sink  to  poverty  and  shame ; 
Heaven  still  shall  o'er  Britannia  smile, 
Restore  her  wealth  and  raise  her  name. 
Rule  Britannia,  etc. 

"How  blest  the  Prince  reserved  by  fate 
In  adverse  days  to  mount  thy  throne ! 
Renew  thy  once  triumphant  state, 
And  on  thy  grandeur  build  his  own. 
Rule  Britannia,  etc. 

"  Hi3  race  shall  long  in  times  to  come 
(So  Heaven  ordains)  thy  sceptre  wield ; 
Rever'd  abroad,  beloved  at  home, 
And  be  at  once  thy  sword  and  shield. 
Rule  Britannia,  etc." 
2 


26  ESSAYS. 

a  scat  in  PaiTiaincnt.  They  suggested  that  he  should  take 
a  wife,  and  they  offered  in  the  event  of  his  marriage  to 
settle  on  him  the  family  estates  in  the  counties  of  Wilts, 
Surrey,  and  Middlesex,  To  these  proposals  he  acceded. 
At  the  close  of  1700  he  became  the  husband  of  Frances 
AVinchcscombe,  daughter  and  one  of  the  co-heiresses  of  Sir 
Henry  Winchescombe,  a  descendant  of  the  famous  Jack 
of  Newbury.  The  lady  had  a  handsome  fortune,  and  suc- 
ceeded on  the  death  of  her  father  to  a  fine  estate  near 
Heading.  She  was,  moreover,  possessed  of  considerable 
personal  attractions.  John  Philips  has  celebrated  her 
charms,  and  in  1713  we  find  Swift  writing  to  Stella: 
"  Lady  Bolingbroke  came  down  while  we  were  at  dinner, 
and  rarncll  stared  at  her  as  if  she  were  a  goddess."  The 
Dean  delighted  in  her  society,  and  humorously  declared 
himself  her  lover.  The  married  life  of  youthful  libertines 
has  been  the  same  in  all  ages.  St.  John  returned  her 
affection,  which  was  on  more  than  one  occasion  in  the 
course  of  his  eventful  life  very  touchingly  evinced,  at  first 
with  indifference,  and  subsequently  with  contempt.  But 
Frances  Winchescombe  was  a  true  woman.  The  conclu- 
sion of  fifteen  years  of  domestic  misery,  aggravated  by  his 
studied  neglect  and  shameless  infidelities,  found  her  still 
clinging  to  him — "a  little  fury  if  they  mention  my  dear 
lord  without  respect,  which  sometimes  happens,"  On 
hearing,  however,  of  his  connection  with  the  Marquise  de 
Villette  at  Marcilly  she  became  entirely  estranged  from 
him,  altered  her  will,  and  left  him  nothing  when  she  died 
in  1718,  One  or  two  angry  paragraphs  about  the  pecun- 
iary loss  he  had  sustained,  and  a  bitter  reflection  on  the 
suppleness  of  religion,  to  Avhich  he  appears  in  some  way 
to  have  attributed  her  conduct,  was  all  the  notice  he  took 
of  her  death.     Shortlv  after  the  celebration  of  this  inau- 


TUE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  21 

spicious  marriage  be  succeeded  Lis  father  as  member  for 
Wootton  Basset  in  Wiltshire,  and  he  took  bis  seat  in  the 
Parliament  which  assembled  on  February  6,  1701. 

He  entered  public  life  at  one  of  those  conjunctures 
which  veteran  statesmen  contemplate  with  dismay,  but 
which  have  in  all  ages  been  hailed  with  delight  by  young 
and  aspiring  spirits.  For  fourteen  years  the  country  had 
been  convulsed  with  the  struggles  of  two  great  factions. 
These  factions  owed  their  origin  not  to  superficial  and  ac- 
cidental differences,  which  easily  arising  are  easily  recon- 
ciled, but  to  differences  which  admit  of  no  compromises, 
and  are  in  their  very  nature  substantial  and  inveterate. 
Each  was  the  representative  of  2lij!l£JP^'^^  which  can  never 
under  any  circumstances  meet  in  harmony,  which  should 
and  may  balance  each  other,  but  which  were  at  that  time 
in  violent  and  terrible  collision.  Each  was  animated  by 
those  passions  which  are  of  all  passions  the  most  malig- 
nant and  abiding.  In  the  perplexity  of  an  awful  crisis 
they  had  for  a  moment  suspended  their  animosities. 
Their  leaders  had  come  to  terms.  There  had  been  a  sem- 
blance of  unity.  Scarcely,  however,  had  the  Prince  of 
Orange  ascended  the  throne,  than  they  had  again  broken 
out  into  tenfold  vehemence  and  fury.  For  some  time 
William  scarcely  seems  to  have  been  aware  of  the  nature 
of  the  struggle  which  was  raging  round  him,  and  had  per- 
sisted in  attempting  to  appease  the  belligerents;  at  last 
he  saw,  and  he  saw  with  the  deepest  regret,  that  all  con- 
ciliatory measures  were  out  of  the  question,  and  that  he 
must  attach  himself  to  one  of  the  two  factions.  He  de- 
cided in  favor  of  the  party  which  had  raised  him  to  the 
throne,  which  would  in  all  probability  support  liis  foreign 
[)olicy,  and  which  had  since  1G91  been  gradually  gaining 
ground.     In  September,  1097,  the  Peace  of  Ryswick  was 


28  ESSAYS. 

signed.  It  was  indeed  a  mere  annistice  to  enable  William 
and  Louis  to  discuss  a  complicated  and  momentous  ques- 
tion. That  mighty  empire  on  which  the  sun  never  set?, 
was  in  all  likelihood  about  to  be  left  without  an  heir.  It 
was  necessary  to  settle  the  succession,  for  on  the  ultimate 
destination  of  those  vast  dominions  hung  the  fate  of  Eu- 
rope for  many  generations.  William  was  anxious  that  they 
should  not  pass  into  the  hands  of  the  French  claimant ; 
Louis  was  equally  anxious  that  they  should  not  pass  into  the 
hands  of  Austria,  or  into  the  hands  of  the  Electoral  Prince. 
The  two  kings  determined  therefore  to  divide  them  be- 
tween the  three  competitors,  and  the  First  Partition  Treaty 
was  arranged.  Meanwhile  William  turned  his  attention  to 
affairs  in  England,  for  all  depended  on  the  cordial  support 
of  the  English  Ministry  and  of  the  English  people.  In 
England,  however,  everything  was  going  wrong;  a  Tory 
reaction  was  setting  in.  The  first  symptoms  of  that  reac- 
tion were  evident  in  the  Parliament  which  assembled  after 
the  Peace  of  Ryswick;  the  reaction  itself  set  in  in  full 
force  when  Parliament  assembled  in  December,  1698.  On 
that  occasion  there  was  a  schism  in  the  Whig  ranks;  on 
that  occasion  the  first  definite  blow  was  aimed  at  William's 
foreign  policy.  The  army  was  reduced.  The  navy  was 
reduced.  The  Dutch  guards  were  dismissed.  Then  fol- 
lowed the  attack  on  Montague;  next  came  the  inquiry  into 
Orford's  administration,  and,  lastly,  the  question  of  the 
Crown  grants.  Suddenly  arrived  the  intelligence  that  the 
Electoral  Prince  was  no  more.  Again  Louis  and  William 
resorted  to  diplomacy,  and  the  Second  Partition  Treaty 
was  arranged.  At  length  the  King  of  Spain  died.  It  was 
known  that  he  had  made  a  will ;  it  was  known  that  in  that 
will  he  had  nominated  a  successor,  and  all  Europe  was  anx- 
ious to  know  the  terms  of  it.     On  the  3d  of  November, 


TEE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  29 

1700,  the  Duke  of  Abrantes  presented  himself  before  the 
ambassadors  and  grandees  wlio  were  tlironging  the  ante- 
chambers of  the  Escurial,  and  announced  that  the  whole 
Spanish  nionarcliy  had  been  bequeathed  to  the  grandson  of 
Louis.  In  the  event  of  Louis  refusing  the  succession  for 
his  grandson,  it  was  to  pass  to  Charles,  Archduke  of  Aus- 
tria. William  at  once  saw  what  would  happen  ;  and  when, 
a  few  weeks  afterwards,  his  rival,  in  spite  of  all  his  solemn 
engagements,  accepted  the  bequest,  he  could  only  watch 
with  patience  the  course  of  events.  There  was,  in  truth, 
little  to  encourage  him.  The  Tories  Avere  now  completely 
in  the  ascendant.  Their  animosity  against  the  King  and 
against  his  Ministry  had  reached  its  climax.  The  power 
of  the  Whigs  was  everywhere  declining.  The  session  of 
April,  1700,  had  been  abruptly  closed  without  a  speech 
from  the  throne,  and  'William  had  been  forced,  with  tears 
of  humiliation  in  his  eyes,  to  dismiss  from  his  councils  the 
wisest  and  the  most  faithful  of  his  servants.  Li  July  the 
death  of  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  left  the  successor  to  the 
Crown  without  an  heir.  The  state  of  the  country  was  de- 
plorable; from  1690  to  1699  there  had  been  scarcely  one 
year  of  average  prosperity.  A  succession  of  wretched  har- 
vests had  spread  ruin  among  the  farmers.  In  some  dis- 
tricts trade  was  almost  at  a  stand-still.*  Bread  riots  had 
broken  out  in  many  of  the  provincial  towns.  The  failure 
of  the  Land  Bank  had  exasperated  the  country  gentlemen 
who  were  watching  with  malignant  jealousy  the  rise  of  the 
moneyed  classes.  Nine  clergymen  out  of  ten  were  Jacobites, 
and  had  been  completely  alienated  from  the  throne  by  the 
Toleration  Act.  The  King  was  not  merely  unpopular,  but 
detested.     Uis  cold  and  repulsive  manners,  his  systematic 

*  See  Lecky's  "  History  of  England  in  tlic  Eighteenth  Century," 
and  the  authorities  there  quoted,  vol.  i.,  p.  17. 


;iO  ESSAYS. 

attempts  to  embroil  England  with  foreign  powers,  his 
Dutch  favorites,  liis  exorbitant  grants  to  those  favorites, 
the  protection  lie  extended  to  needy  aliens,  his  strnggles  to 
maintain  a  standing  army,  liis  suspensions  of  the  Habeas 
Corpus  Act,  his  abandonment  of  the  Darien  Colonists,  his 
frequent  retirements  to  the  Continent,  his  secluded  court — 
all  tended  to  aggravate  tlic  public  discontent.  William 
now  saw  that  the  party  on  which  he  had  relied  for  sup- 
port was  so  broken  and  so  powerless  that  there  was  noth- 
ing left  for  liim  to  do  but  to  throw  himself  into  the  arms 
of  the  Tories.  He  accordingly  dissolved  the  Parliament  in 
December,  IVOO,  and  summoned  another  for  the  following 
February.  The  Ministry  was  remodelled  and  the  Tories 
came  in.  Godolphin  was  placed  at  the  head  of  the  Treas- 
ury ;  Tankerville  was  Privy  Seal,  while  Hedges  succeeded 
Jersey  as  one  of  the  Secretaries  of  State.  February  arrived. 
The  Houses  met,  and  St.  John  took  his  seat  in  one  of  the 
most  intemperate  and  turbulent  assemblies  which  had  since 
the  days  of  the  Plantagenets  disgraced  our  parliamentary 
history. 

The  leader  of  tlie  Lower  House  was  Robert  Harlcy,  a 
man  who  was  destined  in  a  few  years  to  reach  the  highest 
eminence  which  a  British  subject  can  attain,  and  to  leave  a 
name  embalmed  forever  in  the  verse  of  Pope  and  Prior, 
and  in  the  prose  of  Arbuthnot  and  Swift.  On  his  entrance 
into  public  life  he  had  played  the  part  of  an  intolerant  and 
vindictive  Whig,  bnt  lie  had  since,  while  retaining  many  of 
his  original  principles  unimpaired,  allied  liimself  with  the 
Tories.  He  had  none  of  those  gifts  with  which  Nature 
endows  her  favorites.  His  features  were  gross  and  forbid- 
ding, his  figure  mean,  his  voice  inharmonious,  his  gestures 
singularly  uncouth.*    To  the  art  of  engaging  the  passions, 

*  "  Tlic  mischievous  darkness  of  his  soul  "—the  Duchess  of  Marl- 


THE  rOLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  31 

or  of  captivating  the  reason  of  the  great  assembly  over 
which  he  presided,  he  made  no  pretension.  As  a  speaker 
he  -was  tedious,  hesitating,  confused,  and  not  unfrequently 
unintelligible.  Indeed,  to  the  end  of  his  life  he  remained 
incapable  of  framing  ten  sentences  of  lucid  and  coherent 
English.  liis  intellect  was  both  small  and  sluggish,  his 
parts  were  scarcely  above  mediocrity.  But  he  possessed 
qualities  which  seldom  fail  of  being  rated  at  many  times 
their  intrinsic  value,  lie  was  cunning,  decorous,  reticent. 
Ilis  temper  was  not  naturally  good,  but  it  was  under  strict 
control,  and  seldom  betrayed  him  into  an  indiscreet  or  dis- 
courteous expression.  Ilis  studies  had  been  neither  various 
nor  profound,  but  they  had  been  judiciously  directed.  In 
knowledge  of  the  law  of  Parliament  he  was  not  excelled 
cither  by  Seymour  or  Nottingham.  Ilis  acquaintance  with 
affairs  was  great,  his  memory  tenacious,  his  judgment 
sound,  his  tact  consummate.  In  all  the  arts  of  parlia- 
mentary diplomacy  he  was  without  a  rival.  Though  in 
private  life  he  sometimes  made  himself  ridiculous  by  the 
frivolity  of  his  amusements,  he  loved  the  society  of  men 
of  genius  and  letters,  and  he  was  the  first  of  English  states- 
men who  had  the  sagacity  to  employ  the  press  as  an  en- 
gine of  political  power.  To  these  qualities  he  added  others 
not  so  respectable.  lie  was  deeply  tainted  with  those  vices 
which  ambition  engenders  in  timid  and  pusillanimous  nat- 
ures. His  meanness  and  treachery  would  have  been  con- 
spicuously infamous  even  in  that  bad  age  in  which  his  po- 

boiough  is  speaking — "  was  written  in  liis  countenanec,  and  plainly 
legible  in  a  very  odd  look  disagreeable  to  everybody  at  first  sight, 
which  being  joined  with  a  constant  awkward  motion,  or  rather  agita- 
tion of  his  liead  and  body,  betrayed  a  turbulent  dishonesty  within 
even  in  the  midst  of  all  these  familiar  airs,  jocular  bowing  and  smil- 
ing which  he  always  affected." — Conduct  of  the  Duchess,  p.  261. 


32  ESSAYS. 


litioal  morality  had  been  learned.'  Dilatory  and  irresolute, 
liis  aspirations  were  sordid  and  narrow.  Ilis  indifference 
to  truth  shocked  even  the  least  scrupulous  of  his  colleagues. 
His  promises  were  like  the  promises  of  Granville,  as  ready 
and  profuse  as  they  were  feigned  or  forgotten.  At  this 
moment,  however,  he  stood  well  with  all  parties,  for  his 
real  character  was  as  yet  unsuspected  even  by  those  who 
knew  him  best,  as  men  are  slower  to  detect  than  to  prac- 
tise dissimulation. 

St.  John  probably  saw  that  tlie  star  of  Ilarley  and  the 
Tories  was  in  the  ascendant,  and  that  even  if  a  reaction  set 
in  there  would  be  no  room  for  him  in  the  ranks  of  the  Whig 
oligarchy.  To  Harley  and  the  Tories  he  accordingly  at- 
tached himself,  and  to  Ilarley  and  the  Tories  he  adhered, 
so  long  as  it  served  his  purpose,  through  all  vicissitudes  of 
fortune.  Some  of  his  biographers  have  labored  to  show 
that  in  taking  this  step  he  was  acting  in  strict  accordance 
with  the  principles  he  had  inherited,  and  probably  in  ac- 
cordance with  his  own  independent  convictions.  Such  a 
theory  is  partly  false  and  partly  ludicrous.  His  father  and 
his  grandfather,  in  the  first  place,  were  Whigs :  most  of 
his  relatives  were  Whigs ;  and  he  had  in  early  life  been 
trained  up  in  doctrines  from  which  the  Tories  shrank  in  ab- 
horrence. Nor  had  his  subsequent  career  been  more  favor- 
able to  the  formation  of  such  convictions.  The  religious 
tenets  of  the  Tories — and  those  religious  tenets  were  of  the 
essence  of  their  politics — he  systematically  outraged  in  his 
life,  and  systematically  ridiculed  in  his  conversation.  Of 
politics  themselves,  as  he  afterwards  frankly  confessed,  he 
knew  nothing.  But  with  politics,  in  any  legitimate  sense 
of  the  term,  the  House  Avas  not  at  that  instant  engaged. 
There  were,  indeed,  two  questions  of  the  last  importance 
awaiting  discussion— the  question  of  maintaining  the  bal- 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  33 

ancc  of  p(y\'cr  in  Europe,  and  tlic  question  of  providing 
for  the  Protestant  succession  in  England.  Tlie  first  had 
been  rendered  pressing  by  an  act  of  unparalleled  audacity 
on  the  part  of  Louis,  an  act  which  would,  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  and  should  under  any  circumstances  have 
been  passionately  resented.  Having  obtained  the  consent 
of  the  Spanish  Government,  Louis  had  suddenly  despatched 
an  army  into  the  Spanish  Netherlands  and  seized  the  Bar- 
rier Fortresses.  No  sucli  calamity  had  befallen  Protestant 
Europe  within  the  memory  of  man.  There  was  now  every 
probability  that  Uolland  would  fall  under  the  dominion  of 
France,  and  the  subjugation  of  Holland  would  not  only 
fatally  disarrange  the  balance  of  power  but  involve  conse- 
quences to  England  such  as  all  who  had  her  interests  at 
heart  trembled  to  contemplate. 

The  Tories  were,  however,  in  no  humor  for  anything  but 
party  vengeance.  Their  hour  of  triumph  had  come:  their 
enemies  were  at  their  feet,  and  they  resolved  to  trample  on 
them.  They  proceeded  to  impeach  the  Ministers  who  were 
responsible  for  the  Partition  Treaties.  Long  and  tedious 
controversies  resulted.  Every  day  there  were  unseemly 
collisions  between  the  two  Houses.  The  business  of  the 
Government  stood  still.  Nothing  had  been  arranged  but 
the  Act  of  Settlement,  and  the  Act  of  Settlement  had  been 
arranged  in  such  a  way  as  to  insult  the  King.  Then  the 
country  was  roused.  The  Kentish  Petition  was  presented. 
The  Legion  memorial  was  drawn  up.  Fierce  debates  en- 
sued. On  the  14th  of  June  William  prorogued  the  Par- 
liament. On  the  7th  of  September  the  Grand  Alliance  was 
concluded.  Ten  days  afterwards  occurred  an  event  which 
completely  cliangcd  the  face  of  affairs.  James  H.  died  at 
St.  Germains,  and  Louis  XIV.  proclaimed  the  titular  Prince 
of  Wales  King  James  HL  of  England.  In  a  few  hours  a 
2* 


;m  essays. 

courier  was  at  Loo  witli  tlic  intelligence.  AVilliam  saw 
that  his  time  had  come,  lie  knew  the  English ;  he  hur- 
ried to  London  ;  he  remodelled  the  Ministry.  The  indig- 
nation of  the  English  people  at  the  insult  they  had  received 
knew  no  bounds.  The  whole  country  was  transported  with 
fury.  Both  parties  were  unanimous  for  war.  A  bill  was 
passed  for  attainting  the  Pretender,  and  so  completely  had 
the  Whigs  triumphed  that  the  Abjuration  Bill  was  also 
carried.  On  the  15th  of  May,  1702,  war  was  proclaimed 
by  concert  in  London,  at  Vienna,  and  at  the  Hague.  But 
William  was  no  more. 

In  the  debates  on  the  Partition  Treaty  Impeachments, 
on  the  Act  of  Settlement,  and  on  the  Kentish  Petition, 
young  St.  John  appears  to  have  distinguished  himself.  A 
high  compliment  had  indeed  been  paid  him.  He  had  been 
appointed  by  the  House  to  assist  Hedges  in  preparing  and 
bringing  in  an  important  measure — the  bill  for  the  further 
Security  of  the  Protestant  Succession — and  from  this  mo- 
ment he  rose  rapidly  to  eminence. 

On  the  accession  of  Anne  the  position  of  the  two  par- 
ties was  a  very  peculiar  one.  The  point  on  which  all  eyes 
were  turned  was  the  war,  and  the  war  had  created  a  vio- 
lent reaction  in  favor  of  the  Whigs.  It  had  been  the 
triumph  of  the  Whig  policy.  It  had  been  the  real- 
ization of  the  Whig  hopes.  It  had,  to  a  great  extent,  been 
the  work  of  the  great  Whig  ruler.  But  the  new  Queen 
was  a  Tory,  indeed  a  bigoted  and  intolerant  Tory ;  the 
great  general  on  whom  the  conduct  of  the  war  depended 
was  a  Tory  ;  the  Ministry  on  which  he  thought  it  expedient 
to  rely  was  a  Tory  Ministry  ;  the  Privy  Council,  to  which 
he  looked  for  support,  was  a  Privy  Council  in  which  the 
names  of  Somers,  Halifax,  and  Orford  were  not  to  be  found. 
On  the  prosecution  of  the  war  the  two  factions  had  met 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  35 

for  a  moracnt  on  common  ground,  and  by  one  of  the  most 
singular  revolutions  in  liistory  the  Tories  had  been  enabled 
to  supersede  their  rivals  by  adopting  their  policy.  For  a 
few  months  all  went  well.  Scarcely,  however,  had  Marl- 
borough's cannon  begun  to  thunder  on  the  Mouse,  when 
dissensions  began.  In  the  Parliament  which  assembled  in 
October  three  parties  may  be  distinguished :  the  Whigs, 
who  predominated  in  the  Upper  House,  but  who  Averc  in 
a  minority  in  the  Lower ;  the  extreme  Tories,  who  were 
represented  by  Rochester,  Nottingham,  Jersey,  and  Nor- 
manby  in  the  Lords,  and  by  Hedges  and  Seymour  in  the 
Commons;  the  moderate  Tories,  in  whose  ranks  were  to 
be  found  Harley,  now  for  the  third  time  elected  Speaker, 
Uarcourt,  the  solicitor -general,  and  St.  John.  But  the 
two  men  on  whom  everything  turned  were  Marlborough 
and  Godolphin.  Godolphin  was  now  far  in  the  decline  of 
life.  In  official  experience  and  in  practical  sagacity  he  had 
no  superior  among  contemporary  politicians ;  as  a  finan- 
cier he  was  eminently  skilful.  He  had  borne  a  prominent, 
but  by  no  means  honorable  part  in  the  events  of  the  last 
fifteen  years.  Ho  had  been  false  to  James,  and  he  had 
been  false  to  William,  but  his  character  stood  deservedly 
high  for  virtues  which  wore  rarely  in  that  age  found  con- 
joined with  laxity  of  principle.  He  was  incorruptible  by 
money.  In  his  management  of  the  Treasury  he  liad  shown 
himself  scrupulously  honest;  in  his  transactions  with  men 
of  business  he  was  never  known  to  break  his  word,  and  lie 
had  therefore  succeeded  in  inspiring  confidence  where  con- 
fidence is  slow  to  express  itself.  Though  in  debate  lie  con- 
fined himself  as  a  rule  to  the  mere  expression  of  his  opin- 
ion, delivered  in  a  few  bluff  sentences,  and  set  off  by  no 
play  on  his  sullen  and  impassive  features,  he  had  more 
weight  with  the  House  than  the  most  accomplished  ora- 


36  ESSAYS. 

tors  of  those  timcp.  At  Court,  iiidecd,  and  among  men  of 
letters  lie  found  no  favor;  for  his  manners  were  the  man- 
ners of  a  carter,  and  his  tastes  not  exactly  those  of  a  Mje- 
cenas  or  a  Leo.  They  were,  in  truth,  such  as  little  became 
either  his  age  or  his  position.  His  awkward  gallantries  he 
liad  had  the  good  sense  to  abandon ;  but  his  addiction 
to  gambling,  horse-racing,  cock-fighting,  and  the  card-table 
amounted  to  a  passion.  These  frivolous  pursuits  detracted, 
however,  nothing  from  the  respect  with  which  he  was  re- 
garded by  his  colleagues,  as  there  was  no  levity  in  his  con- 
versation, which  was,  as  a  rule,  confined  to  monosyllables, 
or  in  his  demeanor,  which  was  remarkably  grave  and  re- 
served. Between  Marlborough  and  himself  there  existed 
the  tie  of  a  singularly  close  and  affectionate  friendship, 
and  this  tic  had  recently  been  drawn  closer  by  a  family 
alliance. 

The  main  object  of  Godolphin's  policy  was  to  support 
his  friend,  to  find  the  necessary  funds  for  sustaining  the 
war,  and  to  silence  those  who  wished  either  to  control  its 
operations  or  to  change  its  character.  Moderate,  and  cau- 
tious even  to  timidity,  he  tried  at  first  to  govern  by  a  Min- 
istry in  which  all  parties  were  represented.  Though  a 
Tory  himself,  and  dependent  on  the  Tories  for  support,  he 
was  unwilling  to  place  himself  entirely  in  their  hands,  for 
lie  knew  that  he  only  could  look  for  their  co-operation  up 
to  a  certain  point,  and  that  as  soon  as  the  war  extended 
its  area  and  assumed  an  aggressive  character  he  would  in 
all  likelihood  be  obliged  to  fall  back  upon  the  Whigs. 
Such  a  step  he  could  not,  however,  contemplate  without 
apprehension,  for  the  Queen  regarded  that  party  with  pe- 
culiar aversion.  His  hope  was  that  he  might  by  skilful 
parliamentary  diplomacy  be  enabled  to  form  out  of  the 
moderate  Tories  a  body  of  partisans  who  would  support 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLLN^GBROKE.  37 

Lis  war  policy,  wliile  he  could  rely  with  some  confidence 
on  securing  the  Queen  through  the  influence  of  the  Count- 
ess of  Marlborough. 

The  first  point  in  which  the  two  bodies  came  into  vio- 
lent collision  was  the  Bill  against  Occasional  Conformity. 
This  was  introduced  by  St.  John  and  two  other  Tory  mem- 
bers. He  distinguished  himself  not  only  by  the  conspicu- 
ous part  he  took  in  the  stormy  debates  which  attended  its 
progress  through  the  House,  but  in  the  Conference  held 
subsequently  in  the  Painted  Chamber.  In  the  financial 
inquisition  for  incriminating  Halifax  we  find  him  one  of 
the  Commissioners,  and  in  the  Disqualification  Bill  he  was 
for  the  first  time  pitted  against  his  future  enemy  Robert 
Walpole,  who  had  taken  his  scat  among  the  Whigs  as 
member  for  Castle  Rising, 

Godolphin  and  Marlborough  soon  clearly  saw  the  neces- 
sity of  breaking  with  the  High  Tories.  Though  the  con- 
duct of  the  war  had  not  as  yet  been  openly  assailed  in 
either  of  the  two  Houses,  symptoms  of  discontent  had  al- 
ready declared  themselves.  The  resignation  of  Rochester 
in  1703  had  already  relieved  them  of  a  troublesome  col- 
league. Nottingham,  however,  still  represented  his  views, 
and  had  on  more  than  one  occasion  expressed  his  disap- 
proval of  the  conduct  of  the  Government.  Indeed  he 
made  no  secret  of  his  intention  to  put  himself  at  the  head 
of  an  opposition,  and  if  possible  to  supplant  Godolphin 
without  resigning  office.  He  began  by  insisting  on  the 
removal  of  Somerset  and  Devonshire  from  the  Privy  Coun- 
cil. This  was  a  test  question  :  and  this  was  refused.  Upon 
that  be  resigned,  and  his  resignation  was  eagerly  accepted 
by  Godolphin,  who  hastened  to  place  the  seals  in  the  hands 
of  llarlcy.  Next  went  Jersey  and  Seymour,  AVright,  the 
Lord-keeper,  followed.    Blaithwayte,  the  Secretary  of  War, 

163826 


88  ESSAYS. 

llicu  vacated  office,  and  on  the  23d  of  April,  1704,  St. 
Jolin  was  appointed  to  succeed  liim. 

As  ho  had  not  completed  his  twenty-sixth  year  when  he 
was  raised  to  a  post  whicli  involved  a  more  than  usual 
amount  of  responsibility,  his  biographers  have  concluded 
that  he  must  have  owed  his  advancement  to  the  personal 
intercession  of  cither  Ilarley  or  Marlborough.  He  owed 
it,  we  suspect,  to  Marlborough.  Marlborough  was  in  Eng- 
land at  the  time,  and  it  had  been  at  his  suggestion  that 
the  changes  in  the  Ministry  had  been  made.  In  a  letter  to 
Godolphin,  not  long  afterwards,  he  speaks  of  St.  John  as 
a  man  would  speak  of  one  for  whose  conduct  he  had  in  a 
measure  made  himself  responsible.*  St.  John  did  not  dis- 
appoint the  expectations  of  his  friends.  Though  his  pri- 
vate life  continued  to  be  marked  by  the  excesses  which 
characterized  his  earlier  days,  he  discharged  his  public  du- 
ties in  A  way  which  called  forth  the  admiration  even  of 
liis  enemies.  The  position  of  a  Secretary  of  War  in  the 
teeth  of  a  powerful  Opposition  is  a  position  of  no  ordinary 
difficulty.  It  is  a  position,  indeed,  to  which  the  tact  and 
experience  of  veteran  statesmen  have  not  always  been  found 
to  be  equal.  Never  were  the  labors  of  that  onerous  office 
more  exigent  and  harassing  than  during  the  four  years  of 
St.  John's  tenure.  A  war  beyond  all  precedent,  complicated 
and  momentous,  was  raging.  That  war  had  spread  itself 
over  the  vast  area  of  Europe.  Our  position  in  it  was  un- 
defined.     The  amount  of  our  contingents,  both  of  men 

*  See  Marlborough's  Letter  to  Godolphin,  Coxe,  vol.  i.,  p.  152,  and 
the  Stuart  Papers,  Macpherson,  "  Original  Papers,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  532, 
where  it  is  said,  "  Lord  Marlborough  was  always  very  fond  of  Harry 
St.  John,  and  on  the  loss  of  his  son,  the  Lord  Blandford,  said  he  had 
no  comfort  left  but  in  Harry  St.  John,  whom  he  loved  and  considered 
lis  his  son." 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  39 

and  resources,  was  variously  assessed  and  angrily  disputed. 
Every  step  taken  in  it  was  submitted  to  the  malignant  scru- 
tiny of  party  jealousy.  Every  manoeuvre  had  to  be  ac- 
counted for  to  a  captious  and  irritable  Opposition.  Who- 
ever is  acquainted  with  Marlborough's  correspondence  at 
this  period  will  be  at  no  loss  to  understand  the  difficulties 
with  which  the  young  Secretary  had  to  contend.  We  find 
him  constantly  before  the  House  — arguing,  explaining, 
pleading,  refuting.  Indeed,  his  energy,  decision,  and  zeal 
were  of  infinite  service  both  to  Godolphin  and  Marlbor- 
ough in  the  troubled  and  anxious  interval  between  the  Au- 
gust of  1704  and  the  June  of  1706. 

At  the  beginning  of  1707  it  became  more  and  more  ev- 
ident that  if  the  war  was  to  be  continued,  the  Ministry 
must  throw  itself  entirely  on  the  Whigs;  for  the  recent 
successes  of  Marlborough  in  Flanders,  of  Eugene  in  Italy, 
and  of  Peterborough  in  Spain,  had,  according  to  the  To- 
ries, satisfied  the  ends  of  the  war,  and  the  Tories  were  re- 
solved to  oppose  its  continuance.  Godolphin  had  there- 
fore acceded  to  the  wishes  of  the  Whigs  in  removing 
Hedges,  and  in  placing  the  seals  in  the  hands  of  Sunder- 
land, the  son-in-law  of  Marlborough  and  an  uncompromis- 
ing Whig.  The  chiefs  of  the  Tory  party  were  removed 
from  the  Privy  Council,  and  from  this  moment  the  admin- 
istration of  Godolphin  and  Marlborough  assumed  a  new 
character.  It  was  no  longer  a  Tory  but  a  Wliig  Ministry  ; 
though  for  a  time,  at  least,  Ilarley  still  continued  to  hold 
the  seals  with  Sunderland,  and  St.  John  retained  the  post 
of  Secretary  at  War.  Uarley's  conduct  excited  some  sur- 
prise. The  truth  is  he  had  seen  all  along  that  the  Church 
and  the  Queen  would  ultimately  triumph ;  that  the  only 
tie  which  connected  Anne  with  Godolphin  and  his  col- 
leagues was  her  personal  affection  for  the  Duchess  of  Marl- 


40  ESSAYS. 

borough  ;  and  that  her  affection  was,  owing  to  the  over- 
bearing and  imperious  character  of  the  favorite,  daily  de- 
clining, lie  saw  the  annoyance  with  which  she  regarded 
the  recent  changes  in  the  Cabinet — her  intense  dislike  of 
Sunderland — her  increasing  coolness  to  Godolphin.  lie 
saw  that  the  predominance  of  the  Whigs  depended  main- 
ly on  the  successful  prosecution  of  the  war,  on  its  continu- 
ance, on  its  popularity.  He  saw  that  a  financial  crisis  was 
at  hand.  lie  saw  that  the  Iligh-church  Party  were  gain- 
ing ground,  and  he  perceived  how  completely  the  Queen's 
sympathies  were  with  them.  lie  proceeded,  tlierefore,  to 
open  a  secret  communication  with  her  by  means  of  his 
cousin  Abigail  Hill,  and  while  he  pretended  to  be  cordially 
co-operating  with  the  Treasurer,  he  did  all  in  his  power  to 
inflame  the  Queen  against  the  foreign  and  domestic  policy 
of  the  Cabinet.  To  throw  Godolphin  off  liis  guard,  he  re- 
doubled his  protestations  of  fidelity ;  and  with  Marl- 
borough he  practised  the  same  elaborate  duplicity  in  a 
series  of  letters,  which  have  scarcely  a  parallel  in  the  annals 
of  political  treachery.  At  what  precise  period  St.  John  be- 
came a  party  to  these  ignoble  intrigues  it  is  by  no  means 
easy  to  decide.  It  is  clear  from  the  correspondence  of 
Marlborough  and  from  the  "Conduct  of  the  Duchess," 
that  they  both  looked  upon  him  as  the  ally  of  Ilarley,  and 
that  they  regarded  him  with  suspicion,  though  without  be- 
ing able  to  satisfy  themselves  of  his  guilt.  We  are,  on  the 
whole,  inclined  to  suspect  that  it  was  not  till  the  autumn 
of  1V07  that  he  had  any  share  in  these  scandalous  tactics. 
For  upward  of  a  year  Ilarley  managed  with  consummate 
hypocrisy  to  conceal  his  machinations.  At  last  all  was 
discovered,  and  the  Wrings,  whose  difficulties  had  been  in- 
creased by  the  inactivity  of  the  campaign  in  the  Nether- 
lands, by  the  disastrous  defeat  at  Almanza,  and   by  the 


THE  rOLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLIXG  BROKE.  41 

faikire  of  the  enterprise  against  Toulon,  resolved  to  get  rid 
of  ilarley.  Anne  fought  hard  for  her  favorite  Minister. 
She  refused  to  give  any  credence  to  the  Greg  scandal ;  she 
refused  to  see  anything  which  incriminated  hiui  in  the 
affair  of  Valliere  and  Bara.*  She  dilated  at  mortifying 
length  on  his  eminent  services,  on  his  great  experience,  on 
his  sound  judgment.  Godolphin  and  Marlborough  then 
plainly  told  her  that  if  Harley  remained  in  office  they 
would  at  once  give  in  their  resignation,  and  that  she  must 
choose  between  sacrificing  Harley  and  throwing  the  affairs 
of  Europe  into  hopeless  perplexity.  Then,  and  then  only, 
slie  yielded.  On  the  11th  of  February  Ilarley  laid  down 
the  seals ;  and  St,  John  not  only  followed  him  out  of  of- 
fice, but,  on  the  dissolution  in  April,  resigned  his  scat. 

His  premature  departure  from  a  scene  in  which  he  had 
so  conspicuously  distinguished  himself,  not  unnaturally  ex- 
cited a  good  deal  of  surprise.  It  is  not,  we  think,  difficult 
to  account  for.  Had  he  continued  in  Parliament  he  must 
have  taken  one  of  two  courses.  He  must  have  apostatized 
and  joined  the  Whigs,  or  he  must  have  adhered  to  his 
party  and  taken  his  place  in  the  ranks  of  the  Opposition. 
Both  courses  were  fraught  with  embarrassment.  The  tri- 
umph of  the  Whigs  was  certainly  complete,  but  it  had  been 
won  at  the  price  of  the  Queen's  favor,  in  the  teeth  of  the 
Church,  and  in  the  teeth  of  the  party  opposed  to  the  war. 
A  reaction  was  obviously  merely  a  matter  of  time,  and 
that  reaction  would  in  all  probability  involve  the  downfall 
of  the  dominant  faction.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  joined 
the  Opposition,  he  would  be  compelled  to  assail  a  policy 
which  he  had  for  some  time  zealously  supported ;  he  would 
be  compelled  to  ally  himself  with  men  whom  he  regarded 
as  enemies  against  men  whom  he  regarded  as  friends ;  and 

*  See  Burnet's  "  History  of  his  Own  Times,"  pp.  821,  822. 


42  ESSAYS. 

he  would,  moreover,  be  forced  to  the  indelicate  necessity 
of  going  all  lengths  against  his  patrons  Marlborough  and 
Godolpliiu.  From  his  country-house  he  could  watch  in  se- 
curity the  course  of  events,  and  take  a  definite  step  when 
a  definite  stc{)  was  prudent.  These  were,  we  believe,  his 
real  motives  in  withdrawing  at  this  conjuncture  to  Buck- 
lersbury. 

He  abandoned  himself  with  characteristic  impetuosity  to 
his  new  whim.  He  had  now,  he  said,  done  with  politics. 
He  was  weary  of  the  world.  lie  would  devote  himself 
henceforth  to  Philosopliy  and  Literature.  lie  would  leave 
affairs  of  State  to  meaner  men.  These  remarks — for  with 
these  remarks  he  now  began  to  regale  his  friends — were 
received  with  roars  of  laughter,  and  Swift  quotes  an  epi- 
gram which  was  proposed  by  one  of  them  as  an  appropri- 
ate inscription  for  the  summer-house  of  the  young  Recluse. 
It  is,  we  regret  to  say,  quite  unfit  for  repetition  here.  That 
he  applied  himself,  however,  with  assiduity  to  literary  pur- 
suits may  well  be  credited.  He  had  arrived  at  that  period 
in  life  when  curiosity  is  keenest,  when  sensibility  is  quick- 
est, when  the  acquisitive  faculties  are  in  their  greatest  per- 
fection. Indeed,  he  always  spoke  of  these  two  years  as 
the  most  profitable  he  had  ever  spent. 

In  the  autumn  of  I7l0  fell  that  great  administration 
which  is  in  some  respects  the  most  glorious  in  our  annals 
— the  administration  of  Godolphin  and  Marlborough — an 
administration  which  had  distinguished  itself  by  no  ordi- 
nary moderation  in  the  midst  of  no  ordinary  trial ;  which 
had  in  the  intoxication  of  success  been  conspicuous  for 
that  calm  wisdom  which  it  is  the  lot  of  most  governments 
to  learn  only  in  reverses;  which,  founded  on  faction,  had 
endeavored  with  rare  magnanimity  to  adopt  a  policy  of 
concession  and  reconciliation  which  could  look   back  on 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  43 

tbe  victories  of  Blenheim,  Ramillies,  Oudenarde,  Malpla- 
quet,  and  Saragossa — on  the  expulsion  of  the  French  from 
Flanders  and  from  Germany — on  the  capture  of  Gibraltar 
and  Minorca  —  as  the  trophies  of  its  foreign  policy;  and 
which  could,  among  many  other  liberal  and  salutary  meas- 
ures, point  to  the  union  of  England  and  Scotland  as  one 
of  the  glories  of  its  policy  at  home.  The  immediate  cause 
of  a  revolution  which  altered  the  course  of  European  his- 
tory was,  as  every  one  knows,  the  impeachment  of  Sachev- 
erel — perhaps  the  only  act  of  imprudence  of  which  Godol- 
phin  had  ever  been  guilty.  It  has  been  asserted  that  ho 
took  this  impolitic  step  from  motives  of  personal  resent- 
ment. He  took  it,  we  know,  in  direct  opposition  to  the 
advice  of  Somers*  and  of  the  solicitor-general ;  he  took 
it,  there  is  reason  to  believe,  in  opposition  to  the  advice  of 
Marlborough  and  Walpole ;  but  he  took  it,  we  suspect,  with 
a  deliberate  object.  The  truth  is  that  the  party  of  which 
Sacheverel  was  the  mouth-piece  was  beginning  to  assume 
a  miscliievous  activity  in  political  circles.  Half  the  nation 
learned,  as  Godolphin  well  knew,  their  politics  from  the 
pulpit,  and  the  pulpits  were  filled  with  Tories  who  were 
advancing  from  philippics  against  the  Whig  doctrines  to 
philippics  against  the  Whig  government.  lie  perceived 
with  anxiety  the  growing  power  of  the  Opposition;  and 
he  perceived  with  alarm  that  a  great  crisis  in  public  opin- 
ion was  approaching.  lie  resolved,  therefore,  to  strike  a 
decisive  blow  while  the  strength  of  the  Government  was 
as  yet  unimpaired,  and  there  was  some  chance  of  its  being 
able  to  grapple  successfully  with  its  formidable  adversaries. 
The  blow  was  struck,  and   the  Whigs  were   ruined.     It 

*  Indeed  Somers  prophesied  that  if  the  jirosccutioa  was  undertaken 
it  would  be  the  ruin  of  the  Whigs. — Hvf in,  History  of  the  Four  Last 
Years  (Scott's  Swift),  v.  p.  1 72. 


44  ESSAYS. 

would,  however,  be  an  error  to  suppose — as  many  histori- 
ans do  suppose — that  the  prosecution  of  Sachevercl  was 
the  real  cause  of  the  sudden  collapse  of  the  Whi<^  Ministry. 
The  train  had  lonj^  been  laid.  The  prosecution  was  merely 
the  match  which  fired  it.  Had  Godolphin  taken  the  advice 
of  his  coadjutors,  the  catastroplie  might  have  been  post- 
poned— it  could  scarcely  have  been  postponed  for  long ;  it 
was  unavoidable,  it  was  inevitable.  The  Queen  had  never 
looked  upon  the  Whigs  with  favor,  and  at  such  a  time, 
when  the  two  parties  were  so  nicely  balanced,  no  Ministry 
could  subsist  for  long  apart  from  that  favor.  She  suspect- 
ed their  political  principles ;  she  detested  their  religious 
toleration ;  she  looked  upon  many  of  them  as  little  better 
than  infidels:  she  considered  that  they  had  imperilled  the 
Church ;  that  she  had  been  personally  aggrieved  by  them  ; 
that  they  had  insulted  her  husband ;  that  they  had  forced 
Ministers  on  her  whom  she  hated,  and  had  compelled  her 
to  dismiss  Ministers  whom  she  respected.  They  were,  she 
said,  constantly  outraging  her  feelings.  In  July,  1708,  for 
example,  they  had  driven  her  almost  frantic  by  threatening 
to  propose  in  Parliament  that  the  Electoral  Prince  should 
be  invited  to  settle  in  England.  On  the  occasion  of  her 
husband's  illness  in  l707,  and  of  his  death  in  1 708,  their 
conduct  had  been  marked  not  merely  by  disrespect,  but  by 
gross  indelicacy.  Nor  was  the  domestic  tyranny  to  which 
she  was  subjected  by  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough  less 
galling.  All  these  passions  and  prejudices  had  moreover 
been  sedulously  inflamed  by  Ilarley  and  Mrs.  Masham. 

But  everywhere  the  current  was  running  in  the  same 
direction.  A  reaction  was  setting  in  against  the  Dissent- 
ers. The  Naturalization  Act  had  crowded  London  with  a 
rabble  of  needy  and  turbulent  aliens  who  had — such  was 
the  language  of  Tory  demagogues — diverted  charity  from 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  45 

its  proper  clianne],  and  been  invited  over  by  tlie  Whigs  to 
assist  in  the  subversion  of  the  Church.  Marlborough's  re- 
cent application  for  the  captain-generalshij)  for  life  had 
seriously  impaired  his  popularity.  lie  already  possessed, 
it  was  said,  more  power  than  it  became  a  subject  to  enjoy, 
and  men  were  beginning  to  mutter  about  Cromwell,  stand- 
ing armies,  and  military  despotism.  The  unsatisfactory 
conclusion  of  the  Conferences  at  the  Hague  in  the  spring 
of  1V09,  and  the  recent  failure  of  the  Conference  at  Ger- 
trudenberg,  had  irritated  the  middle  classes,  who  were  com- 
plaining heavily  of  the  war — the  unnecessary  protraction 
of  which  they  attributed  to  the  ambition  of  Marlborough 
and  to  the  party  necessities  of  the  Ministry.  The  re- 
sources of  Godolphin  had  been  taxed  to  the  uttermost  to 
avert  a  financial  crisis  which  was  now  to  all  appearance  at 
hand.  For  some  time  Godolphin  clung  to  power  with  in- 
decent pertinacity  ;  but  on  the  8th  of  August  he  received 
a  brief  note  from  the  Queen,  in  which  she  curtly  intimat- 
ed that  she  had  no  further  occasion  for  his  services,  desir- 
ing at  the  same  time  that  instead  of  bringing  the  White 
Staff  to  her  he  would  breat  it.  The  note  was  delivered 
by  a  lackey  in  the  royal  livery,  not  to  the  Lord-treasurer 
himself  but  to  Lis  hall-porter.  Godolphin,  irritated  at  this 
mean  and  gratuitous  insult,  broke  the  staff,  and  flung,  in  a 
fit  of  petulance,  the  fragments  into  the  fireplace.  Such 
was  the  ignominious  conclusion  of  a  long  and  brilliant 
ministerial  career,  and  such  is  the  gratitude  of  princes. 

The  Treasury  was  placed  in  Commission,  but  Ilarley  be- 
came Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  He  at  once  proceed- 
ed to  form  a  Ministry,  and  he  attempted  with  characteris- 
tic caution  to  trim  between  the  two  parties.  He  was  by 
no  means  inclined  to  throw  himself  entirely  on  the  Tories. 
He  was  anxious  fur  a  coalition.     He  had  interviews  with 


46  ESSAYS. 

Cowpcr,  Halifax,  and  Walpole.  lie  importuned  them  to 
retain  their  places.  "  There  was,"  he  said,  "  a  Whig  game 
intended  at  bottom ;"  but  when  asked  to  explain  himself, 
he  became  unintelligible.  Cowpcr  and  Halifax  gathered, 
however,  that  if  they  would  consent  to  remain  in  the  Gov- 
ernment, St.  John  and  Ilarcourt  should  be  admitted  only 
to  subordinate  offices.  They  declined  the  proposal.  "  If 
any  man  was  ever  born  under  the  necessity  of  being  a 
knave,  he  was" — was  the  quiet  comment  which  Cowpcr 
entered  in  his  diary  when  recording  a  former  interview 
with  Ilarley.*  It  was  indeed  soon  evident  that  a  mixed 
Ministry  was  out  of  the  question,  that  the  days  of  coali- 
tion were  over.  A  faction  had  triumphed,  and  a  faction 
must  rule.  Rochester  succeeded  Somers  as  President  of 
the  Council,  and  St.  John  received  the  Seals  as  Secretary 
of  State  for  the  Northern  Department :  Boyle  having  the 
good  sense  to  prevent  disgrace  by  a  voluntary  resignation. 
So  entered  on  its  stormy  and  disastrous  career  the  last 
Ministry  of  Queen  Anne. 

"When  St.  John  received  the  Seals  he  was  in  his  thirty- 
third  year.  It  has  been  said,  and  it  is  by  no  means  im- 
probable, that  he  owed  this  splendid  elevation  principally 
to  his  knowledge  of  the  French  language,  an  accomplish- 
ment which  neither  Harley  nor  any  member  of  the  Cabinet 
possessed  in  an  adequate  degree,  but  an  accomplishment 
which  the  negotiations  contemplated  about  this  time  with 
Versailles  rendered  indispensable  in  one  at  least  of  the  two 
secretaries.  At  the  end  of  September  Parliament  was  dis- 
solved. The  nation  was  now  on  fire  with  faction.  The 
panic  excited  by  Sachevercl  bad  not  yet  subsided.  The 
elections  were  almost  nniversally  in  favor  of  the  Tories, 
and  were  marked  by  such  excesses  of  party  feeling  that  life 
*  "  Diary  of  William,  Earl  Cowper,"  p.  33. 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  4*7 

was  in  jeopardy.  By  day  the  bells  clanged  joyously  from 
the  Tory  strongholds,  by  night  the  bonfires  roared  in  the 
squares.  Mobs  wild  with  excitement  paraded  the  streets ; 
conventicles  and  meeting-houses  were  gutted.  An  appall- 
ing riot  convulsed  Westminster,  and  some  of  the  provin- 
cial towns  presented  the  appearance  of  places  which  had 
been  exposed  to  the  ravages  of  war.  Meanwhile  addresses 
from  all  quarters  of  England  came  pouring  in.  The  doc- 
trines most  dear  to  the  Stuarts  were  everywhere  proclaim- 
ed. The  Court  was  thronged  with  Jacobites  and  High 
Tories,  who  publicly  congratulated  the  Queen  on  what  they 
termed  her  emancipation  from  captivity.  "Your  Majes- 
ty," said  the  Duke  of  Beaufort,  "is  now  Queen  indeed." 
In  November  Parliament  met,  and  St.  John  took  his  seat 
as  member  for  Berkshire. 

In  the  vicissitudes  of  political  history  there  are  certain 
conjunctures  in  which  power  is  more  easily  acquired  than 
maintained,  and  it  was  at  one  of  these  conjunctures  that 
the  new  Ministry  assumed  the  reins  of  government.  Its 
position  was  in  the  highest  degree  perilous  and  embarrass- 
ing. "  It  rested,"  wrote  Swift,  "  on  a  narrow  bottom,  and 
was  like  an  isthmus  between  the  Whigs  on  one  side  and 
the  extreme  Tories  on  the  other."  Ilarley  saw  from  the 
very  first  the  precariousness  of  the  tenure  by  which  he 
held.  He  saw  that  the  Tories  could  not  stand  alone.  He 
estimated  at  its  real  value  the  popular  panic  to  which  he 
had  been  immediately  indebted  for  his  elevation.  In  the 
Commons  he  belield  with  alarm  an  Opposition  conspicu- 
ous by  their  abilities  and  steady  co-operation,  and  he  be- 
held with  perplexity  a  ministerial  majority  conspicuous 
mainly  by  their  insolence,  their  numbers,  and  their  tumult- 
uous fanaticism.  In  the  Lords  he  beheld  against  him  the 
most  formidable  combination  of  enemies  that  ever  souuht 


48  ESSAYS. 

the  destruction  of  a  rival  faction.  The  finances  were  in 
deplorable  confusion.  Immense  supplies  were  needed,  and 
without  the  confidence  of  the  moneyed  class  nothing  could 
be  raised ;  but  the  moneyed  class  had  little  confidence  in 
the  Ministry.     Among  his  colleagues  there  was  no  one, 

"N^  with  the  exception  of  Dartmouth,  on  whom  he  could  de- 
pencf.  St.  John  and  Ilarcourt  were  for  extreme  measures, 
and  had  been  in  a  manner  forced  on  him.  Rochester  was 
already  in  open  mutiny.  Buckinghamshire,  whom  he  re- 
garded with  suspicion  and  dislike,  was  impracticable; 
J'aulct  was  a  mere  cipher,  lie  was  compelled,  therefore, 
to  grapi)le  single-handed  with  the  difiiculties  of  his  posi- 
tion ;  to  satisfy,  on  the  one  hand,  the  party  which  had 
befriended  him,  and  to  conciliate,  so  far  as  he  could,  the 
party  which  were  opposing  him.  His  ultimate  object  was 
a  coalition,  his  immediate  object  was  to  prepare  the  way 
to  it.  Tie  saw  that  the  health  of  the  Queen  was  failing, 
and  the  question  of  the  succession  imminent.  He  shrank, 
therefore,  from  compromising  himself  either  at  Hanover 
or  at  St.  Germains,  He  wrote  to  the  Elector,  assuring  him 
of  his  good  intentions.  He  put  himself  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble into  communication  with  the  Pretender.  At  home  he 
fenced,  he  trimmed,  he  equivocated.     The  necessity  of  a 

\  i  peace  with  France  was  obvious ;  without  it  he  was  at  the 
mercy  of  his  opponents;  but  to  conclude  a  peace  on  any- 
thing but  on  the  most  advantageous  terms  to  England 
would  in  all  probability  cost  the  Cabinet  their  heads.  With 
consummate  tact  he  declared,  therefore,  his  resolution  of 
supporting  the  Allies,  while  he  took  measures  to  under- 
mine them  in  popular  estimation.  He  provided  for  the 
vigorous  prosecution  of  the  war,  while  he  enlarged  on  the 
expediency  of  peace.  He  did  everything  in  his  power  to 
conciliate  Marlborough,  while  be  connived  at  attacks  on 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  49 

him.  He  upheld  hira  in  the  field,  while  he  annihilated  his 
influence  in  the  closet.  lie  prepared  also,  in  addition  to 
these  devices,  to  call  in  the  assistance  of  a  more  formidable 
power. 

In  the  preceding  August  the  Tories  had,  at  the  suggest- 
ion of  St.  John,  started  the  Examiner.  Several  numbers 
had  already  appeared.  They  had  not  been  distinguished 
by  conspicuous  ability,  but  during  the  course  of  the  elec- 
tions a  pamphlet,  entitled  a  "  Letter  to  the  Examiner,^'' 
had  attracted  so  much  attention  that  it  had  elicited  a  reply 
from  the  pen  of  Earl  Cowper.  The  paper  in  question  was 
an  attack  on  the  Duke  and  Dnchess  of  Marlborough,  on 
the  protraction  of  the  war,  and  on  the  ruinous  selfishness 
of  the  Allies,  It  pointed  out  in  angry  and  declamator}' 
terms  that  England  was  the  dupe  of  Austria  and  the  tool 
of  Holland,  "  a  farm  to  the  Bank  and  a  jest  to  the  whole 
world  ;"  that  she  had  engaged  in  the  war  as  a  confederate, 
that  she  was  now  proceeding  in  it  as  a  principal;  that  the 
objects  of  the  Grand  Alliance  had  long  since  been  attained, 
and  that  ruin  and  bankruptcy  were  now  staring  her — the 
prey  of  a  wicked  faction — in  the  face.  The  pamphlet  was, 
as  every  one  knew,  the  work  of  St.  John.  It  was  a  suffi- 
cient indication  of  the  policy  he  meant  to  pursue  as  a  Min- 
ister ;  it  was  an  indication,  indeed,  of  the  policy  Harley 
intended  to  pursue.  But  Ilarley  was  by  no  means  inclined 
to  trust  to  his  impetuous  colleague  either  the  development 
of  his  schemes  or  the  interpretation  of  his  policy.  He 
proceeded,  therefore,  to  put  the  press  under  his  own  con- 
trol. He  had  an  interview  with  De  Foe,  whose  Review 
was  at  that  time  the  most  influential  paper  in  the  king- 
dom, and  De  Foe  was  instructed  to  dilate  on  the  First 
Minister's  well-known  inclination  towards  the  Whigs.  He 
s<;ught  the  assistance  of  Charles  Davenant,  whose  name  is 

3 


60  ESSAYS. 

scarcely  remembered  now,  but  who  was  in  I'/IO  one  of  the 
ablest  writers  on  politics  and  linancc  that  British  journal- 
ism could  boast,  lie  won  over  Prior,  Rowc,  and  rarnell. 
He  made  overtures  to  Steele ;  and  though  Steele  preferred 
to  remain  in  the  AVhig  ranks,  a  more  illustrious  apostate 
was  preparing  to  quit  them.  Swift  had  recently  arrived 
in  London.  He  had  been  received  with  coldness  by  Go- 
dolphin.  He  had  been  treated  with  duplicity,  he  said,  by 
Somers.  He  had  been  grossly  insulted  by  Wharton.  lie 
had  done  great  services  for  the  Whigs.  These  services 
had  been  ignored,  and  his  sensitive  pride  was  wounded. 
He  called  on  llarley,  and  llarley,  by  a  few  courteous  words, 
succeeded  in  securing  the  aid  of  the  greatest  master  of  po- 
litical controversy  which  this  country  had  ever  seen. 

At  the  beginning  of  November  Swift  undertook  the  edi- 
torship of  the  Examiner,  and  for  upward  of  three  years 
he  fought  the  battles  of  the  Ministry  as  no  one  had  ever 
yet  fought  the  battles  of  any  Ministry  in  the  world.  With 
a  versatility  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  party  warfare, 
he  assailed  his  opponents  in  almost  every  form  which  satire 
can  assume;  in  Essays  which  are  still  read  as  models  of 
terse  and  luminous  disquisition  ;  in  philippics  compared 
with  which  the  masterpieces  of  Cicero  will,  in  point  of 
vituperative  skill,  bear  no  comparison  ;  in  pamphlets  which 
w<5re  half  a  century  afterwards  the  delight  of  Burke  and 
Fox :  in  ribald  songs,  in  street  ballads,  in  Grub  Street  epi- 
grams, in  ludicrous  parodies.  He  had  applied  his  rare 
powers  of  observation  to  studying  the  peculiarities  of  ev- 
ery class  in  the  great  family  of  mankind,  their  humors, 
their  prejudices,  their  passions;  and  to  all  these  he  knew 
how  to  appeal  with  exquisite  propriety.  He  was  a  master 
of  the  rhetoric  which  casts  a  spell  over  senates  and  tri- 
bunals, and  of  the  rhetoric  which  sends  mobs  yelling  to 


THE   POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLING  BROKE.  51 

the  tar-barrel  or  the  club-stick.  With  every  weapon  in  tlie 
whole  armory  of  scorn  he  was  equally  familiar.  In  bois- 
terous scurrility  he  was  more  than  a  match  for  Oldmixon. 
In  delicate  and  subtle  humor  he  was  more  than  a  match 
for  Addison.  In  an  age  when  the  bad  arts  of  anonymous 
polemics  had  been  brought  to  perfection,  his  lampoons 
achieved  a  scandalous  pre-eminence.  Uis  sarcasm  and  in- 
vective were  terrific.  His  irony  made  even  the  Duchess 
of  Marlborough  quail ;  his  pasquinades  drove  Eugene  in 
ignominy  from  our  shores ;  his  broadsides  made  it  perilous 
for  the  Opposition  to  show  their  faces  in  the  streets.  But 
however  remarkable  were  his  abilities  as  an  unscrupulous 
assailant,  his  abilities  as  an  unscrupulous  advocate  were  not 
less  consummate.  Where  his  object  was  persuasion,  he 
was  indifferent  to  everything  but  effect.  He  hesitated  at 
nothing.  AVhen  the  testimony  of  facts  was  against  him, 
be  distorted  them  beyond  recognition.  When  testimony 
was  wanting,  he  invented  it.  When  the  statements  of  his 
opponents  admitted  of  no  confutation,  he  assumed  the  air 
of  an  honest  and  stout-hearted  Englishman  who  refused 
to  be  duped.  His  diction  —  plain,  masculine,  incisive — 
came  home  to  every  one ;  and  the  monstrous  effrontery  of 
his  assumptions  was  seldom  suspected  by  readers  whose 
reason  was  enthralled  by  the  circumstantial  conclusiveness 
with  which  he  drew  his  deductions.  In  truth,  of  all  writers 
who  have  ever  entered  the  arena  of  party  politics.  Swift 
had,  in  a  larger  measure  than  any,  the  most  invaluable  of 
all  qualifications — the  art  of  making  truth  assume  the  ap- 
pearance of  elaborate  sophistry,  and  the  art  of  making 
elaborate  sophistry  assume  the  appearance  of  self-evident 
truth.  With  these  formidable  powers  he  entered  the  camp 
<.f  Ilarlcy. 

For  a  few  weeks  all  went  well.     The  cautious  policy  of 


V 

62  ESSAYS. 

ll.irley  \y<'is  steadily  pursued.  The  supplies  were  voted 
and  raised.  The  war  was  vigorously  prosecuted.  The  lan- 
guage of  tlic  Tory  press  was  the  language  of  moderate 
"Whigs.  In  December  Marlborough  arrived  in  England. 
lie  had  a  long  interview  with  St.  John.  St.  John  candid- 
ly explained  to  him  the  intentions  of  the  Ministry.  They 
would  support  him  in  the  war  so  long  as  the  Queen  con- 
tinued him  in  command.  They  had  no  ill-feeling  towards 
liim.  They  should  be  sorry  to  lose  him.  lie  must,  how- 
ever, consent  to  two  things — he  must  insist  upon  the  re- 
moval of  his  wife  from  Court,  and  he  must  "  draw  a  line 
between  all  that  had  passed  and  all  that  is  to  come :"  in 
other  words,  he  must  quit  the  Whigs,  who  were  his  ene- 
mies, and  he  must  join  the  Tories,  who  were  his  friends. 
He  then  proceeded  to  give  him  a  long  lecture  on  the  dif- 
ference between  the  two  parties.  To  all  this  Marlborough 
listened  with  patient  urbanity.  He  was,  he  said,  worn  out 
with  age,  fatigue,  and  misfortune;  he  had  done  wrong  in 
joining  the  Whigs,  he  would  return  to  his  old  friends. 
lie  did  nothing  of  the  sort,  and  he  never  meant  to  do  so. 
lie  struggled  hard  to  prevent  the  degradation  of  his  wife, 
but  all  was  in  vain,  and  the  high  offices  she  had  held  were 
divided  between  the  Duchess  of  Somerset  and  Mrs.  Masham. 
The  failure  of  this  negotiation  with  Marlborough  was  a 
severe  blow  to  llarley,  who  found  himself  more  and  more 
thrown  into  the  power  of  the  extreme  Tories.  Party-spirit 
was  now  running  high  in  both  Houses.  The  conduct  of 
the  war  in  Spain  was  the  point  at  issue.  The  Whigs  took 
their  side  by  Gal  way,  and  the  Tories  by  Peterborough.  St. 
John,  at  the  head  of  the  Tories,  harangued  against  Galway. 
The  war,  he  said,  had  been  grossly  neglected  in  Spain  to 
give  effect  to  the  triumphs  of  Marlborough  in  Flanders, 
and  he  had,  he  continued,  no  doubt  that  to  the  scandalous 


THE  rOLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  53 

— to  the  criraiual — neglect  of  the  war  in  Spain  was  to  be 
attributed  not  only  the  disaster  at  Almanza,  but  the  failure 
of  the  expedition  to  Toulon.  At  last  a  vote  of  censure 
was  passed  on  Galway,  and  a  vote  of  thanks  to  Peter- 
borough. The  Tories  were  mad  with  joy,  and  the  Whigs 
with  chagrin. 

Meanwhile  a  schism  was  forming  in  the  Tory  ranks.  The 
extreme  members  of  that  faction — and  the  extreme  mem- 
bers formed  the  majority — began  to  clamor  against  Harley. 
They  would  have  no  half  measures.  They  would  have  no 
dallying  with  the  Whigs.  Why  was  the  Examiner  speak- 
ing civilly  about  Marlborough?  How  long  were  they  go- 
ing to  be  a  farm  to  the  Bank?  When  were  they  going  to 
have  a  peace?  Why  were  not  the  W'hig  dogs  impeached? 
At  the  head  of  these  malcontents  was  Rochester.  Every 
day  their  complaints  became  more  intemperate  and  more 
insolent.  The  October  Club  was  formed.  Nightly  meet- 
ings were  held.  The  crisis  was  alarming,  and  Harley  fell 
ill.  "  The  nearer  I  look  upon  things,"  wrote  Swift  to  Stel- 
la, "  the  worse  I  like  them.  The  Ministry  are  able  seamen, 
but  the  tempest  is  too  great,  the  ship  too  rotten,  and  the 
crew  all  against  them."  It  was  rumored  that  the  Duchess 
of  Somerset  was  superseding  Mrs.  Masham  in  the  Queen's 
affections,  and  that  Somers  had  been  twice  admitted  to  a 
private  audience.  Suddenly  an  event  occurred  which  com- 
y)lctely  changed  the  face  of  affairs. 

In  the  course  of  his  licentious  pleasures  St.  John  had 
made  the  acquaintance  of  a  dissolute  French  adventurer. 
His  name  was  Antoine  de  Guiscard.  Originally  an  abbe, 
he  had  become  successively  a  political  demagogue,  a  sol- 
dier, and  a  parasite.  His  life  had  been  stained  by  almost 
every  vice  to  which  human  depravity  can  stoop.  His  ab- 
bey resembled,  it  was  said,  the  groves  of  Paphos.     Even 


64  ESSAYS. 

the  vestals  of  his  religion  had  not  been  safe  from  his  sac- 
rilegious libertinism.  One  of  his  mistresses  he  had  poi- 
soned. A  steward  whom  ho  suspected  of  peculation  he 
had  put  Avith  his  own  hand  to  the  rack.  In  Rouergue, 
where  he  had  excited  a  rebellion  and  loft  his  colleagues  to 
be  broken  on  the  wheel,  he  had  been  hung  in  effigy  by  the 
magistrates.  Entering  subsequently  into  the  service  of  the 
English,  he  had  proposed  several  wild  schemes  for  the  in- 
vasion of  his  own  country  which  had  not  been  regarded 
with  much  favor,  and  since  the  battle  of  Altnanza  he  had 
resided  on  a  pension  in  London.  There  St.  John,  at  that 
time  Secretary  of  War,  fell  in  with  him.  Their  acquaint- 
ance soon  ripened  into  intimacy.  They  gambled  and  drank 
together.  They  paid  court  to  the  same  mistress  and  lived 
for  some  time  in  sordid  community  of  pleasures.  The 
woman  gave  birth  to  a  child.  A  dispute  about  its  pater- 
nity arose,  and  the  two  friends  parted  in  anger.  At  the 
beginning  of  iVll  Guiscard  attempted  to  open  a  secret 
correspondence  with  France.  His  letters  were  intercepted. 
He  was  arrested  on  a  warrant  signed  by  St.  John,  and  car- 
ried by  the  Queen's  messengers  to  the  Cockpit.  The  scene 
whieli  ensued  is  well  known.  In  the  course  of  his  exam- 
ination he  rushed  forward,  and  with  a  penknife  which  he 
had  managed  to  secrete  stabbed  Harley  in  the  breast.  For 
about  six  weeks  the  First  Minister  was  the  most  popular 
man  in  England.  His  house  was  besieged  by  crowds  of 
anxious  inquirers.  He  had  fallen  a  victim,  it  was  said,  to 
his  patriotism.  Guiscard  had  no  doubt  selected  him  be- 
cause of  his  hostility  to  France  and  to  Popery.  Guiscard 
had  meant — such  was  the  audacious  assertion  of  Swift — 
to  make  his  way  to  Windsor  and  to  assassinate  the  Queen, 
but,  failing  that,  had  aimed  his  blow  at  the  most  faithful 
of  her  servants.     Tiie  truth  reallv  was  that  Guiscard's  das- 


TBE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  55 

tardly  act  bad  been  prompted  merely  by  personal  resent- 
ment, as  Ilarley  bad  struck  off  a  bundred  pounds  from  bis 
pension,  and  bad  at  tbe  same  time  declined  to  put  it  on  tbe 
permanent  list.  Indeed  tbere  is  reason  to  believe  tbat  tbe 
wretcb  bad  originally  intended  to  attack  St.  Jobn,  witb 
wbom  be  twice  attempted,  in  tbe  course  of  bis  examination, 
to  bave  a  private  interview.  But  Ilarley  bad  been  slabbed 
— and  Ilarley  was  tbe  martyr.  At  tbe  end  of  May  be  was 
Earl  of  Oxford.  A  few  days  afterwards  be  was  presented 
witb  tbe  Wbite  Staff.  Nor  was  tbis  all.  Shortly  before 
tbe  fortunate  accident  to  wbicli  be  owed  so  mucb,  be  bad 
witb  tbe  assistance  of  St.  Jobn  organized  a  committee  to 
inquire  into  tbe  expenditure  of  tbe  last  Ministry.  Tbis 
scrutiny,  undertaken  witb  tbe  object  of  casting  a  slur  on 
Godolpbin  and  bis  colleagues,  was  conducted  witli  scandal- 
ous unfairness.  Tbe  Report  was  issued,  and  tbe  Report 
announced  tbat  upward  of  tbirty-five  millions  sterling  bad 
been  unaccounted  for.  Tbe  effect  produced  was  tbe  effect 
intended.  Tbe  Wbig  leaders  became  more  unpopular  tban 
ever,  and  tbe  confidence  wbicb  bad  once  been  placed  in 
Godolpbin  was  immediately  transferred  to  Ilarley.  His 
position  was  now  to  all  appearance  impregnable.  His  cred- 
it was  bigb.  Tbe  Queen,  and  tbe  two  favorites  wbo  ruled 
tbe  Queen,  were  bis  friends.  Tbe  deatb  of  Rocbestcr  bad 
relieved  bim  of  bis  most  troublesome  colleague.  Even  tbe 
October  Club  bad  relented.  From  tbis  moment,  bowever, 
bis  power  began  gradually  to  decline.  "It  soon  appeared," 
says  Burnet,  "tbat  liis  stretigtb  lay  in  managiug  parties, 
and  in  engaging  weak  people  by  rewards  and  promises  to 
depend  upon  bim,  and  that  he  neither  thoroughly  under- 
stood the  business  of  tbe  Treasury  nor  the  conduct  of  for- 
eign affairs." 

The  star  of  St.  Jobn  now  rose  rapidly  into  tbe  ascend- 


56  ESSAYS. 

ant.  The  struggle  between  the  two  Ministers  had  indeed 
already  begun,  AViiilc  Ilarley  was  confined  to  his  chamber 
by  the  knife  of  Guiscard,  the  subordinate  had  passed  into 
the  rival.  The  truth  is,  recent  events  had  convinced  St. 
John  of  three  things — the  real  strength  of  the  Tory  party 
if  judiciously  consolidated;  the  impossibility  of  a  coalition 
with  the  Whigs ;  the  ruinous  folly  of  trimming  and  equiv- 
ocating. But  he  saw  also  that  the  Ministry  could  not 
stand  without  a  peace,  and  without  securing  the  unpro- 
vided debts,  and  that  these  measures  could  be  carried  only 
by  Oxford,  who  had  tlie  car  of  the  Queen,  the  confidence 
of  the  moderate  Tories,  and  the  supreme  direction  of  af- 
fairs. To  break  with  the  Treasurer  before  he  could  step 
into  his  place  would  be  destruction,  lie  would  therefore 
co-operate  with  him  so  far  as  the  common  interests  of 
their  party  went,  but  he  would  have  no  share  in  his  deal- 
ings with  the  Whigs.  He  would  put  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  extreme  Tories,  arm  and  inflame  them  against  the 
Wliigs,  and  force  on  through  every  obstacle  the  peace  with 
France.  He  now  plunged  headlong  into  those  dark  and 
tortuous  intrigues  which  finally  drove  him  in  shame  from 
his  country,  and  have  made  his  name  ever  since  synony- 
mous with  all"  that  is  most  odious  in  a  reckless  and  un- 
principled public  servant,  and  all  that  is  most  contemptible 
in  a  treacherous  and  self-seeking  diplomatist. 

In  the  preceding  January  secret  communications  had 
been  opened  with  France.  In  the  middle  of  August  it  was 
suspected  that  a  peace  was  in  contemplation.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  October  it  became  known  that  preliminary  articles 
had  been  signed.  In  a  moment  the  whole  kingdom  was 
in  a  blaze.  |~  The  Allies  were  beside  themselves  with  anger 
and  chagrin.  Marlborough  remonstrated  with  the  Queen. 
Buys  had  already  been  sent  over  from  Holland  to  protest. 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  57 

Bothmar  followed  with  a  memorial  from  the  Elector,  Do 
Gallas,  the  Austrian  Ambassador,  behaved  with  such  inso- 
lence that  he  was  forbidden  the  Court.  The  fury  of  the 
Whigs  knew  no  bounds,  and  they  prepared  for  a  desperate 
effort  to  defeat  the  Government.J  Deputations  were  formed, 
protests  signed,  meetings  summoned.  The  public  mind, 
which  had  for  many  months  been  kept  in  a  state  of  the 
most  exquisite  irritability  by  party  pamphleteers,  was  now 
goaded  almost  to  the  verge  of  madness.  Every  press  was 
hard  at  work.  ^On  the  side  of  the  Whigs  were  enlisted 
the  boisterous  scurrility  of  Steele,  the  mature  polemical 
skill  of  Burnet  and  Maynwaring ;  Oldmixon  and  Ridpath, 
w  ith  their  rancorous  myrmidons ;  and  Dunton,  with  half 
Grub  Street  at  his  heels.  On  the  side  of  the  Tories  ap- 
peared— with  Swift  towering  in  their  van — Atterbury  and 
Mrs.  Manley,  King  and  Oldesworth,  Freind  and  Arbuthnot. 
On  the  iTth  of  November  a  terrible  riot  was  expected,  and 
the  trained  bands  were  called  out. 

In  the  midst  of  this  ferment  Marlborough  arrived  from 
the  Hague,  and  at  once  took  counsel  with  the  chiefs  of  the 
Opposition.  It  was  resolved  to  open  overtures  with  Not- 
tingham, who,  having  been  passed  over  in  all  the  recent 
nominations,  made  no  secret  of  his  enmity  to  Oxford.  A 
bargain  was  soon  struck.  Nottingham  consented  to  move 
a  resolution  against  the  peace.  The  Whigs,  in  return, 
agreed  to  support  the  Bill  against  Occasional  Conformity. 
They  then  proceeded  to  secure  Somerset,  whose  wife  was 
generally  understood  to  divide  with  Lady  Masham  the  af- 
fection of  the  Queen.  The  sympathies  of  Anno  were  al- 
tugotlicr  with  the  Tories.  "  I  hope,"  she  said  to  Burnet, 
"the  Bishops  will  not  be  against  the  peace."  *' If,"  re- 
[)lied  Burncl,  with  characteristic  bluntness,  "  the  present 
troatv  with  France  is  concluded,  we  shall  all  be  ruined;  in 


58  ESSAYS. 

three  years  your  Majesty  will  be  murdered  and  the  fires 
will  be  raised  again  in  Smitlifield."  The  Houses  were  to 
assemble  on  the  lili  of  December.  "On  Friday  next," 
wrote  St.  John  to  a  friend  at  the  Hague,  "  the  peace  will 
bo  attacked  in  Parliament.  We  must  receive  their  fire,  and 
rout  them  once  for  all."  The  anxious  day  arrived.  The 
Queen  informed  the  Houses  in  lier  Speech  from  the  Throne 
that  the  time  and  place  had  been  appointed  for  opening 
the  treaty  of  a  general  peace,  "  notwithstanding,"  she  add- 
ed, "the  arts  of  those  that  delight  in  war."  Having  con- 
cluded her  address  she  retired,  laid  aside  the  royal  robes, 
and  returned  to  the  House  incognita.  Then  Nottingham 
rose,  with  more  than  usual  emotion  on  bis  harsh  and  gloomy 
features.  He  inveighed  against  the  articles  signed  by  Mes- 
nagcr,  declared  that  hostilities  ought  to  be  carried  on  with 
the  utmost  vigor  till  the  objects  of  the  Grand  Alliance  had 
been  fully  attained,  and  concluded  a  long  and  intemperate 
liarangue  by  moving  that  no  peace  could  be  safe  or  honor- 
able to  Great  Britain  or  Europe  if  Spain  or  the  West  In- 
dies were  allotted  to  any  branch  of  the  House  of  Bourbon. 
He  was  supported  by  the  whole  strength  of  the  Whig 
party,  by  Wharton  and  Sunderland,  by  Cowper  and  Bur- 
net. As  the  debate  grew  more  acrimonious  the  remarks 
became  more  personal.  At  last  a  taunt  of  one  of  the  Tory 
Speakers  called  up  Marlborough.  He  had  been  accused, 
lie  said,  of  wishing  to  protract  the  war  for  his  own  inter- 
ests. Nothing  could  be  falser.  He  desired — he  had  long 
desired  peace,  and  lie  called  that  God,  before  whom  ho 
would  have,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  so  shortly  to 
appear,  to  witness  the  truth  of  what  he  was  saying.  But 
he  could  not,  compatibly  with  his  duty  to  his  sovereign,  to 
his  country,  to  Europe,  acquiesce  in  any  peace  which  was 
not  honorable  and  not  likely  to  be  lasting.     He  alluded 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLIXGBROKE.  59' 

with  great  pathos  and  dignity  to  his  advanced  years,  to  the 
hardships  he  had  undergone,  and  to  the  cruel  aspersions 
which  had  been  cast  on  his  character  and  on  his  motives. 
It  was  impossible  even  for  the  Tories  to  listen  unmoved  to 
such  words  coming  from  such  a  man.  The  House  was 
deeply  affected,  and  the  flush  of  shame  was  on  more  than 
one  face  when  the  hero  of  Blenheim  and  Ramillies  resumed 
his  seat.  In  the  division  which  ensued  the  Whigs  obtained 
a  complete  victory.  It  was  evident,  too,  that  the  feelings 
of  the  Queen  were  changing.  Oxford  and  St.  John,  whose 
secret  negotiations  with  France  had  now  fatally  committed 
them,  were  in  terrible  perplexity.  The  crisis  was,  indeed, 
appalling.  Swift  gave  up  all  for  lost.  "  I,"  he  said  to  Ox- 
ford, lialf  seriously,  "  shall  have  the  advantage  of  you,  for 
you  will  lose  your  head ;  I  shall  only  be  hanged,  and  carry 
my  body  entire  to  the  grave."  For  some  days  it  was  be- 
lieved that  the  Ministry  would  be  turned  out;  that  the 
Queen  had  settled  that  Somers  was  to  have  the  AVhite 
Staff;  that  the  Parliament  would  be  dissolved,  and  that 
the  Whigs  would  carry  the  elections. 

The  storm  blew  over.  But  it  became  every  week  more 
evident  that  the  languid  and  indecisive  policy  of  Oxford, 
to  which  the  late  defeat  was  almost  universally  attributed, 
was  not  the  policy  which  the  exigencies  of  the  time  re- 
quired. The  Whigs  must  be  crushed.  Their  coadjutors, 
the  Allies,  must  be  silenced.  The  peace  with  France  must 
at  all  cost  be  consummated.  A  Tory  despotism  must  be 
established.  Such  had  long  been  the  course  prescribed  by 
St.  John.  Recent  events  had  proved  his  wisdom,  and  ho 
now  virtually  directed  affairs.  lie  rushed  at  once  into 
every  extreme,  and  into  every  extreme  he  hurried  the 
Treasurer  and  the  Cabinet.  A  series  of  measures  which 
were  without  precedent  in  parliamentary  history  now  fol- 


60  ESSAYS. 

lowed  in  rapid  succession.  The  Tory  minority  in  the  Up- 
per House  was  corrected  by  the  simultaneous  creation  of 
twelve  peers,  and,  added  St.  John  in  insolent  triumph,  "  if 
those  twelve  had  not  been  enough,  we  would  have  given 
them  another  dozen."  Then  came  the  astounding  intelli- 
gence that  Marlborough  had  been  removed  from  all  his 
employments.  On  the  18th  of  January  Walpole  was  in 
the  Tower.  On  the  19th  Somerset  had  been  dismissed. 
By  the  middle  of  February  the  Barrier  Treaty  had  been 
condemned,  and  Townshend,  who  had  negotiated  it,  voted 
an  enemy  to  his  country.  Meanwhile  all  opposition  was 
quelled  with  summary  violence.  The  Tory  press,  with 
Swift  at  its  head,  was  encouraged  to  proceed  to  every 
length  of  libellous  vituperation  against  the  victims  of  min- 
isterial vengeance ;  but  whenever  a  Whig  journalist  pre- 
sumed to  retaliate,  he  was  at  once  confronted  with  a  war- 
rant from  the  Secretary.  At  the  end  of  the  session  the 
Stamp  Act  vvas  passed.  In  the  Lower  House  the  same 
system  of  tyranny  and  intimidation  was  practised.  Sup- 
ported by  a  vast  majority,  and  without  a  rival  in  eloquence 
and  energy,  St.  John  carried  everything  before  him.  "  You 
know,"  he  wrote  some  years  afterwards  to  Wyndham, "  the 
nature  of  that  assembly;  they  grow  like  hounds  fond  of 
the  man  who  shows  them  game,  and  by  whose  halloo  they 
are  wont  to  be  encouraged,"  and  he  gave  them  that  halloo 
as  none  but  Jack  Howe  liad  given  it  them  before.  In- 
deed, the  audacity  and  insolence  which  characterized  his 
conduct  at  this  period  were  long  a  tradition  in  parliament- 
ary memory.  The  "Journals"  of  the  Commons  still  tes- 
tify how  in  the  course  of  one  of  the  debates  he  threatened 
a  recalcitrant  Whig  with  the  Tower. 

The  Whigs  had  now,  in  Oxford's  phrase,  been  managed. 
The  Allies  remained,  and  the  Allies  were  busier  than  ever 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLING  BROKE.  61 

against  the  peace.  Swift's  pamphlets  liad  already  done 
them  considerable  damage  in  popular  estimation.  St.  John 
resolved  to  deal  them  such  a  blow  as  would  effectually  par- 
alyze tlieir  efforts.  That  blow  was  dealt  by  the  Represent- 
ation, and  that  blow  they  never  recovered.  The  Repre- 
sentation was  drawn  up  by  llanmer  under  the  direction  of 
St.  John.  It  was  an  elaborate  exposure  of  the  selfishness 
and  ruinous  folly  of  the  Whigs  and  the  Allies  in  continu- 
ing to  prosecute  the  war  when  the  objects  for  which  the 
war  had  been  undertaken  had  been  long  attained.  It 
pointed  out  that  the  whole  burden  of  the  contest  fell  on 
England,  the  only  Power  which  had  nothing  to  gain  by  it; 
that  the  Emperor  and  the  Dutch,  who  reaped  all  the  ben- 
efit, had  never  contributed  what  they  had  stipulated  to 
contribute  ;  and  that  while  in  1702  the  cost  of  the  war  had 
amounted  to  £3,706,494,  in  1711  it  had,  in  consequence  of 
this  shameful  breach  of  contract  on  the  part  of  the  Allies, 
risen  to  £8,000,000.  "  We  are  persuaded  " — so  ran  the 
concluding  paragraph — "  that  your  Majesty  will  think  it 
pardonable  in  us  to  complain  of  the  little  regard  which 
some  of  those  whom  your  Majesty  of  late  years  trusted, 
have  shown  to  the  interests  of  their  country  in  giving  way 
at  least  to  such  unreasonable  impositions  upon  it,  if  not  in 
some  measure  contriving  them."  This  was  sensible,  this 
was  temperate,  this  was  to  the  point ;  and  it  was  observed 
that  after  the  Representation  appeared  many  even  of  the 
advanced  Whigs  quitted  the  ranks  of  the  War  party. 

But  whatever  were  the  difficulties  with  which  St.  John 
had  to  contend  in  the  House  and  in  the  Cabinet,  the  diffi- 
culties with  which  he  had  to  contend  in  the  closet  were 
formidable  indeed.  He  had  to  unravel  every  thread  in 
the  whole  of  that  vast  and  perplexed  labyrinth  of  interests 
which  were  involved  in  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht.     He  had 


C2  ESSAYS. 

to  grap})lc — and  to  grapple  virtually  alone — with  the  most 
accomplished  diplomatists  in  Europe,  with  an  exacting  and 
imperious  enemy,  and  with  a  factions  and  malignant  Op- 
position. His  colleagues  in  France  and  Holland  were  dog- 
ged and  dilatory,  his  colleagues  at  home  were  timid  and 
lielpless.  At  every  step  he  was  traversed,  and  at  every 
step  new  and  unexpected  complications  arose.  The  clan- 
destine negotiations  which  had  by  means  of  Gautier  and 
Mesnager  been  opened  with  France,  were  every  day  sink- 
ing the  Ministry  deeper  and  deeper  in  ignominy  and  em- 
barrassment. They  had  already  violated  the  most  sacred 
ties  which  can  bind  one  nation  to  another.  They  had  al- 
ready, for  the  most  ignoble  of  all  objects,  stooped  to  the 
most  ignoble  of  all  expedients.  St.  John  now  resolved  to 
abandon  the  Allies  to  the  vengeance  of  Louis.  We  can- 
not linger  over  those  shameful  transactions  which  preceded 
the  Treaty  of  Utrecht.  They  may  be  read  at  length  in 
Bolingbroke's  "Political  Correspondence"  —  an  everlast- 
ing monument  of  his  genius  and  of  his  infamy. 

In  the  midst  of  these  labors  Parliament  was  prorogued. 
St.  John  was  anxious  for  a  seat  in  the  Upper  House.  The 
Earldom  of  Bolingbroke,  which  had  for  some  time  been 
in  the  possession  of  his  family,  had  recently  become  ex- 
tinct, and  he  aspired  to  revive  it.  In  the  interests  of  his 
party  he  had  already  waived  his  claim  to  a  peerage.  His 
services  had  been  greater  than  those  of  any  other  Minister 
in  the  Cabinet.  He  liad  borne  the  whole  burden  of  the 
last  session.  He  had  all  but  conducted  to  a  prosperous 
issue  the  negotiations  with  France.  An  earldom,  however, 
the  Queen  would  not  hear  of.  She  had  promised,  she  said, 
a  viscounty,  and  a  viscounty  was  all  she  would  concede. 
In  the  middle  of  July,  therefore,  he  accepted,  with  feelings 
of  rage  and  mortification  which  lie  took  no  pains  to  con- 


TUE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  C3 

ccal,  the  title  of  Viscount  Bolingbroke  and  Baron  St.  John 
of  Ledyard  Tregoze.  To  employ  his  own  phrase,  he  was 
dragged  into  the  Upper  House  in  a  manner  which  made 
his  promotion  a  punishment,  not  a  reward.  This  conduct 
on  the  part  of  the  Queen  he  always  attributed  to  Oxford, 
whom  he  liad  long  regarded  with  jealousy,  and  whom  he 
now  began  to  regard  with  hatred.  The  truth  seems  to  be 
that  Anne  had  conceived  an  aversion  to  him  on  account 
of  the  profligacy  of  his  private  life,*  a  profligacy  which 
his  oflScial  duties  had  by  no  means  suspended,  and  which 
had  indeed  given  great  scandal  to  the  more  decorous  of 
his  colleagues. 

Meanwhile  several  minor  details  had  to  be  settled  in  the 
treaty  with  France.  Bolingbroke  was  irritable  and  moody. 
To  soothe  his  wounded  pride  and  to  put  him  in  a  good- 
humor,  it  was  resolved  to  send  him  on  a  diplomatic  mis- 
sion to  Paris.  The  incidents  of  that  visit  were  long  re- 
membered by  him.  lie  had  no  sooner  left  Calais  than  it 
became  known,  in  spite  of  his  precautions,  that  he  had 
arrived  on  French  soil.  The  intelligence  spread  like  wild- 
fire. Crowds  poured  forth  to  meet  him.  Joyful  accla- 
mations rent  the  air.  He  was  the  friend  of  a  war-worn  na- 
tion, lie  was  their  savior;  he  was  the  Herald  of  Peace. 
He  could  scarcely  make  his  way  through  crowds  so  ecstat- 
ic with  enthusiasm  that  they  covered  his  very  horses  with 
kisses.  In  the  capital  his  visit  was  one  continued  ovation. 
When  lie  appeared  in  the  streets  ho  was  overwhelmed  with 
tumultuous  expressions  of  popular  gratitude.  When  be 
presented  himself  at  Court  the  noblesse  vied  with  one  an- 

*  This  is  Swift's  view.  See  his  "Enquiry  into  the  Behaviour  of 
the  Queen's  Last  Ministry ;"  und  see  particularly  the  "  Wentworth 
Papers,"  p.  395,  where  details  arc  given  of  Bolingbroke's  reckless 
debauchery  at  this  period. 


64  ESSAYS. 

other  in  pressing  on  him  their  splendid  hospitality.  When 
he  entered  the  theatre  the  whole  audience  rose  up  to  re- 
ceive him.  lie  had  a  satisfactory  conference  with  Louis 
at  Fontaineblcau.  In  a  few  days  everything  had  been  ar- 
ranged with  De  Torcy.  The  rest  of  his  time  he  devoted 
to  social  enjoyment.  It  has  been  asserted  that  he  had, 
during  the  course  of  this  visit,  two  interviews  with  the 
Pretender.  Such  a  thing  is,  however,  in  spite  of  the  as- 
surance of  Azzurini,  very  improbable.  His  intrigues,  at 
this  time  at  least,  were,  we  suspect,  of  another  kind.  His 
gallantries  betrayed  him  indeed  into  a  serious  official  in- 
discretion. In  truth  Dc  Torcy  was  not  a  man  to  observe 
such  a  weakness  without  turning  it  to  account.  He  threw 
the  susceptible  diplomatist  in  the  way  of  an  accomplished 
but  profligate  adventuress,  who  robbed  him  of  some  im- 
portant documents,  which  were  at  once  communicated  to 
the  Minister.  The  effects  of  Bolingbroke's  folly  soon  be- 
came apparent.  He  arrived  in  England  with  a  damaged 
reputation.  It  was  whispered  by  some  that  he  had  estab- 
lished a  private  understanding  with  the  French  Court;  by 
others,  that  he  had  turned  traitor  and  divulged  the  secrets 
of  the  English  Cabinet;  while  others,  again,  asserted  that 
he  had  come  to  terms  with  the  Pretender,  These  reports, 
equally  improbable  and  equally  unfounded,  were,  however, 
eagerly  caught  at  by  Oxford,  whose  jealousy  had  been 
roused  by  his  rival's  reception  in  Paris.  On  this  occasion 
he  scarcely  acted  with  his  usual  prudence.  He  removed 
the  Foreign  Correspondence  out  of  Bolingbroke's  hands, 
and  placed  it  in  the  liands  of  Dartmouth.  The  conse- 
<juences  were  easy  to  foresee.  Affairs  became  more  and 
more  complicated.  Dartmouth  was  as  helpless  as  the  Treas- 
urer. France  became  more  exacting,  Holland  more  insolent. 
A  wretched  squabble  between  the  suite  of  Rechtheren,  one 


THE  rOLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  65 

of  the  Dutch  deputies,  and  the  suite  of  Mesnager,  the 
French  plenipotentiary,  had  suspended  the  conferences  at 
Utrecht.  Prior  wrote  from  Paris  complaining  that  he  had 
"  neither  powers,  commission,  title,  instructions,  appoint- 
ments, money,  nor  secretary."  The  Whigs  were  in  league 
with  the  Allies,  and  the  peace  threatened  to  come  to  a 
stand-still.  x\t  last  the  rivals  began  to  understand  their 
folly.  Bolingbroke  swallowed  his  chagrin,  hurried  up 
from  Bucklersbury  and  resumed  his  duties  at  Whitehall. 
On  the  31st  of  March,  1713,  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht  was 
signed. 

The  verdict  which  history  has  passed  on  the  master- 
piece of  Bolingbroke's  statesmanship  is  well  known.  It 
is  a  verdict  which  no  judicious  biographer  would,  we  think, 
attempt  to  question,  which  no  sophistry  can  reverse,  and 
which  no  future  grubbing  among  State  papers  and  family 
documents  is  ever  likely  to  modify.  That  peace  was  ex- 
pedient and  even  necessary  to  the  welfare  of  England  ;* 

*  Bolingbroke's  letter  to  Lord  Raby,  dated  March  C,  1711,  so  ad- 
niirabl_v  summarizes  tlie  reasons  for  peace  that  we  will  transcribe 
the  principal  paragraphs : 

"  We  arc  now  in  the  tenth  campaign  of  a  war  the  great  load  of 
wliicli  has  fallen  on  Britain  as  the  great  advantage  of  it  is  proposed 
to  redound  to  the  House  of  Austria  and  to  the  States-General.  They 
are  in  interest  more  immediately,  we  more  remotely  concerned.  How- 
ever, what  by  our  forwardness  to  engage  in  every  article  of  expense, 
what  by  our  private  assurances,  and  what  by  our  public  parliament- 
ary declarations  that  no  peace  should  be  made  without  the  entire 
restitution  of  the  Spanish  monarchy,  we  are  become  principals  in  the 
contest;  the  war  is  looked  upon  as  our  war,  and  it  is  treated  accord- 
ingly by  the  confederates,  even  by  the  Imperialists,  and  by  the 
iJutcli.  .  .  .  From  hence  it  is  that  our  commerce  has  been  neglected, 
while  the  French  have  engrossed  tiie  South  Sea  trade  to  themselves, 
and  the  Dutch  encroach  daily  upon  us  both  in  the  East  Indies  and 
on  tlie  coast  of  Africa.     From  hence  it  is  that  we  have  every  year 


6G  ESSAYS. 

that  the  Allies,  who  had  cvcrythinj^  to  gain  by  the  pro- 
traction of  tlio  war,  were  throwing  the  whole  burden  of  it 
on  England,  who  had  nothing  to  gain ;  that  the  actual 
union  of  Austria  and  Spain  under  the  same  sceptre  would 
liave  been  more  prejudicial  than  the  chance  of  such  a  union 
between  France  and  Spain  ;  and  that  the  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  attaining  peace  were  almost  insuperable,  may,  we 
think,  be  fairly  conceded.  But  how  did  Bolingbroke  solve 
the  problem  ?  Even  thus :  he  knew  that  we  were  bound 
by  the  most  solemn  obligations  not  to  enter  into  any  sep- 
arate treaty  with  France.  lie  lied,  equivocated,*  and  en- 
tered into  a  separate  treaty.  lie  knew  that  we  were  bound 
to  defend  the  interests  of  our  Allies.  lie  leagued  with  the 
common  enemy  to  defeat  them.  lie  knew  that  we  were 
bound  by  every  consideration  of  good  faith  and  humanity 
to  protect  the  Catalans,  whose  liberties  we  had  promised 
to  secure,  and  who  in  return  for  that  promise  had  rendered 
us  eminent  services.     In  defiance  of  all  his  engagements 

Jidded  to  our  burden  which  was  long  ago  greater  than  we  could  bear, 
while  the  Dutch  have  yearly  lessened  their  proportions  in  every  part 
of  the  war,  even  in  Flanders.  Whilst  the  Emperor  has  never  employ- 
ed twenty  of  his  ninety  thousand  men  against  France.  .  .  .  From  hence 
it  is  that  our  fleet  is  diminished  and  rotten,  that  our  funds  are  mort- 
gaged for  thirty-two  and  ninety-nine  years,  that  our  specie  is  exhausted 
and  that  we  have  nothing  in  possession  and  hardly  anything  in  ex- 
pectation. .  .  .  From  hence,  in  one  word,  it  is  that  our  government  is 
in  a  consumption,  and  that  our  vitals  are  consuming,  and  we  must 
inevitably  sink  at  once.  Add  to  this  that  if  we  were  able  to  bear  the 
same  proportion  of  charge  some  years  longer,  yet  from  the  fatal  con- 
sequences, should  certa-inly  miss  of  the  great  end  of  the  war,  the 
entire  recovery  of  the  Spanish  monarchy  from  the  House  of  Bour- 
bon."— Letters  and  Correspondence,  \o\.  i.,  pp.  117-119. 

*  His  political  correspondence  reveals  such  a  mass  of  duplicity 
and  falsehood  as  will  not  be  easily  paralleled  in  the  records  of  di- 
plomacy. 


THE  rOLITIC^iL  LIFE  OF  BOLIXGBROKE.  67 

lie  abandoned  them  to  tbe  vengeance  of  Philip ;  and  in 
defiance  of  ordinary  liumanity  lie  despatched  a  squadron 
to  assist  Philip  in  butchering  them.  lie  knew  that  the 
renunciations,  which  he  palmed  oS  on  the  English  people 
as  valid,  were  worth  no  more  than  the  paper  on  which  they 
were  inscribed.  The  honor  of  England  was,  as  he  Avas 
well  aware,  pledged  to  provide  for  the  Dutch  a  substantial 
barrier  against  France.  The  barrier  provided  for  them  by 
the  treaty  was  a  mere  mockery.  By  ceding  Lille  he  ceded 
to  Louis  the  key  of  Flanders.  He  compelled  Holland  to 
restore  Aire,  Bethune,  and  St.  Venant.  He  allowed  France 
to  retain  Quesnoy,  and  he  was,  as  his  correspondence  with 
De  Torcy  proves,  only  deterred  from  sacrificing  Tournay 
by  his  fear  of  public  opinion.  Austria  fared  even  worse. 
For  the  loss  of  Spain,  the  Indies,  and  Sicily,  she  was  con- 
demned to  satisfy  herself  with  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  the 
Duchy  of  Milan,  and  the  Spanish  Netherlands ;  her  tenure 
of  the  Netherlands  being  indeed  of  such  a  kind  as  to  ren- 
der it  little  more  than  nominal.  With  regard  to  the  con- 
cessions exacted  on  behalf  of  England,  we  arc  not  inclined 
to  take  so  unfavorable  a  view  as  most  historians  do  take. 
It  is  true  that  France  had  been  reduced  to  the  lowest  ebb. 
It  is  true  that  the  concessions  whicb  she  made  in  17 13 
were  by  no  means  the  concessions  she  had  offered  to  make 
either  in  1706  or  in  1709.  But  it  is  no  less  true  that  in 
spite  of  our  successes  in  Germany,  Italy,  and  Flanders,  our 
chances  of  success  in  Spain,  which  was  the  main  object  of 
the  struggle,  were  all  but  hopeless.  The  possession  of  Gib- 
raltar, Minorca,  Hudson's  Bay,  Nova  Scotia,  Newfound- 
land, and  the  French  portion  of  St.  Christopher  —  the 
Assiento  Treaty,  the  demolition  of  Dunkirk,  and  Louis's 
recognition  of  the  Act  of  Settlement,  were  assuredly  no 
contemptible  trophies. 


68  ESSAYS. 

The  triumph  of  Bolingbrokc  was,  however,  very  short- 
lived ;  and  when,  on  the  IGth  of  July,  Parliament  was 
prorogued,  it  was  evident  that  the  current  was  running 
strongly  against  the  Ministry.  The  Bill  to  make  good  tho 
Commercial  Treaty  had  been  defeated;  and  the  Commer- 
cial Treaty  was  the  point  on  which  Bolingbrokc  had  espe- 
cially prided  himself.  The  Cabinet  had  been  charged, 
absurdly  charged,  with  attempting  to  ruin  the  mercantile 
interests  of  England  in  favor  of  the  mercantile  interests  of 
France,  and  had  lost  ground  in  consequence.  The  Malt 
Tax  had  thrown  the  Scotch  members  into  the  ranks  of  the 
Opposition.  A  scandalous  attempt  had  been  made  to  dis- 
solve the  Union.  Argyle  was  at  open  war  with  Oxford. 
Another  schism  had  broken  out  among  the  Tories  them- 
selves. The  Cabinet  was  divided.  There  was  no  money 
in  the  Treasury.  Oxford  and  Bolingbrokc  were  scarcely 
on  speaking  terms,  and  everything  was  going  wrong.  All 
through  the  autumn  this  state  of  things  continued.  It 
was  plain  that  the  health  of  the  Queen  was  breaking.  It 
was  plain  that  if  at  this  conjuncture  the  throne  became 
vacant,  one  of  two  things  must  happen  :  cither  the  Act  of 
Settlement  would  be  carried  out  by  the  Whigs,  and  the 
Tories  be  trampled  under  the  feet  of  their  victorious  foes, 
or  the  Act  of  Settlement  would  be  set  aside  by  the  Tories 
and  a  civil  war  convulse  the  country.  The  proper  course 
for  the  Ministry  to  take  was  obvious.  If  they  were  strong 
enough  to  set  aside  the  Act  of  Settlement — and,  provided 
the  Pretender  would  have  made  the  necessary  concessions, 
or  even  have  affected  to  make  them,  there  is  no  reason  to 
suppose  the  Ministry  would  not  have  been  strong  enough 
— they  should  have  cordially  co-operated  ;  should  have  ral- 
lied their  partisans ;  should  have  remodelled  the  array  ; 
should  have  gained  the  confidence  of  their  party ;  should 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  69 

have  made  with  firmness  and  prudence  the  requisite  ar- 
rangements. If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Pretender  persist- 
ed in  liis  higotr}',  and  thus  rendered  it  impossible  to  set 
aside  the  Act  without  ruin  to  Liberty  and  to  the  Church, 
they  should  at  once  have  declared  war  against  him  ;  should 
have  cleared  their  policy  of  all  ambiguity :  should  have 
vied  with  the  AYhigs  in  ostentatious  zeal  for  the  Protestant 
Succession,  and  have  cultivated  in  every  way  the  good-will 
of  the  Elector.  But  the  more  pressing  became  the  emer- 
gency, the  more  dilatory  and  irresolute  became  the  Treas- 
urer. He  was  apparently  anxious  about  nothing  but  the 
establishment  of  his  family.  He  could  rarely  be  induced 
to  open  his  lips  about  affairs;  and  when  he  did  so  it  was 
impossible  to  understand  what  he  meant.  He  was  fre- 
quently intoxicated.  He  was  always  out  of  the  way — 
sometimes  on  the  plea  of  ill-health,  sometimes  on  the  plea 
of  domestic  concerns,  and  sometimes  on  no  plea  at  all. 
Bolingbroke  was  furious.  He  attributed  to  him  the  recent 
ministerial  defeat,  and  all  the  perplexities  which  had  arisen 
since.  He  saw  that  everything  was  going  to  pieces.  He 
saw  that  the  Ministry  were  on  the  brink  of  ruin.  He  saw 
that  an  awful  crisis  was  at  hand ;  but  he  could  not  induce 
his  infatuated  colleague  to  take  one  step,  and  without  him 
lie  could  take  no  decided  step  himself.  He  could  only 
ingratiate  himself  with  Lady  Masham  and  the  Duchess  of 
Somerset,  and  that  he  did. 

The  new  year  found  things  worse  than  ever.  The  Queen 
was  apparently  on  the  point  of  death,  and  the  question  of 
the  succession  w^as  now  agitating  every  mind  even  to  mad- 
ness. The  Whigs  were  in  paroxysms  of  delight,  and  the 
Tories  in  a  panic  of  perplexity.  Li  February,  however, 
she  recovered,  and  on  the  IGth  opened  Parliament  with 
an  address  whicli  bore  unmistakable  traces  of  Bolingbroke's 


70  ESSAYS. 

hand.  The  Tories  were  at  this  moment  decidedly-  in  the 
majority  both  witliiii  the  Houses  and  without;  indeed 
BoHnghroke  assured  D'lhcrville  that  scven-eiglitlis  of  tlie 
people  in  Great  Britain  might  be  reckoned  as  belonging 
to  that  faction,  and  the  Tories  were,  on  the  whole,  averse 
to  Hanover.  But  there  was  no  harmony  among  them. 
Some  were  willing  to  accept  the  Pretender  without  exact- 
ing any  securities  from  him.  Otliers,  again,  insisted  on 
such  securities  as  the  condition  of  their  co-operation.  In 
some  of  them  an  attachment  to  the  principles  of  the  Rev- 
olution struggled  with  an  attachment  to  High-church  doc- 
trines, and  with  an  antipathy  to  Dissenting  doctrines. 
Many  of  them  belonged  to  that  hirge,  selfish,  and  fluctuat- 
ing class,  who,  with  an  eye  merely  to  their  own  interests, 
are  always  ready  to  declare  with  the  majority  on  any  ques- 
tion. The  Whigs,  on  the  other  hand,  though  numerically 
inferior,  were  weakened  by  no  such  divisions.  Their  policy 
was  simple,  their  opinions  never  wavered,  tlieir  feelings 
were  unanimous.  Their  leaders  were  of  all  public  men  of 
that  age  the  most  resolute,  the  most  united,  and  the  most 
capable. 

It  may  assist  our  knowledge  of  the  character  of  this 
conjuncture,  and  of  the  political  profligacy  of  those  at  the 
head  of  affairs,  to  observe  that  Oxford,  Buckingham,  Leeds, 
Shrewsbury,  and  Bolingbroke  were  publicly  proclaiming 
their  devotion  to  the  Elector,  and  at  the  same  time  secretly 
assuring  the  Pretender  of  their  allegiance.  Nor  can  Anne 
herself  be  altogether  acquitted  of  similar  duplicity.  She 
never,  it  is  true,  gave  her  brother  any  encouragement  in 
writing;  but  her  aversion  to  the  Elector  was  well  known, 
and  she  led  both  Buckingham  and  Oxford  to  infer  that, 
provided  James  would  consent  to  change  his  religion,  she 


THE  POLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  Tl 

sliould  not  scruple  to  follow  "  the  bent  of  Ler  own  inclina- 
tions."* 

The  Houses  soon  showed  that  they  were  in  no  mood  for 
trifling,  and  Bolingbroke  saw  that  the  time  had  come  for 
him  to  take,  at  any  hazard,  decisive  measures.  He  deter- 
mined to  hesitate  no  longer,  but  to  seize  the  reins  of  gov- 
ernment by  assuming,  in  opposition  to  Oxford,  the  leader- 
ship of  the  extreme  Tories,  and  by  undermining  him  not 
merely  at  Kensington,  but  at  Bar  le  l)uc  and  at  Ilerren- 
hausen.  lie  could  thus,  he  thought,  make  himself  master 
of  the  position  without  at  present  definitely  compromising 
himself  either  with  James  or  the  Elector,  lie  could  heal 
the  schisms  which  were  paralyzing  a  triumphant  majority. 
He  could  supplant  the  Treasurer  without  alienating  the 
Treasurer's  adherents,  and  remodel  the  Ministry  without 
weakening  its  constituent  parts.  He  could  thus,  at  the 
head  of  a  great  Tory  Confederation — such  was  his  splendid 
dream — dictate  the  terms  on  which  the  Elector  should  be 
received,  or  set  aside  the  Act  of  Settlement,  and  escort  the 
Pretender  to  the  throne.  Nor  were  these  designs  altogeth- 
er without  plauslbilit}'.  lie  stood  well  with  the  Queen, 
whose  prejudices  had  probably  not  been  proof  against  his 
singularly  fascinating  manners,  with  Lady  Masham  and 
with  the  Duchess  of  Somerset.  lie  could  reckon  certainly 
on  the  assistance  of  Ormond,  Buckingham,  Strafford,  At- 
terbury,  who  had  recently  been  raised  to  the  see  of  Roch- 
ester, Ilarcourt,  Bromley,  Trevor,  Wyndhara,  and  the  Earl 
of  Mar.     He  had  hopes  of  Anglesea  and  Abingdon  ;  he 

*  It  is,  we  think,  quite  clear  that  the  sole  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
Aniie'd  espousing  the  cause  of  her  brother  lay  in  his  refusing  to 
change  his  religion.  See  particularly  Macpherson's  "  Original  Pa- 
pers," vol.  ii.,  pp.  504,  003;  Berwick's  "Memoirs,"  vol.  ii.,  pp.  192; 
Lockhart's  "  Comment,"  p.  3 17. 


72  ESSAYS. 

had  hopes  of  Shrewsbury,  and  he  proceeded  at  once  to 
make  overtures  to  others.  He  continued  to  assure  the 
'Elector  of  his  fidelity,  and  he  kept  up  simultaneously  a 
'regular  correspondence  with  the  Jacobite  agents  D'lbcrville, 
and  Gaulticr.  -  When,  in  the  House,  he  found  it  necessary 
to  proclaim  liostile  measures  against  James,  he  at  once 
privately  wrote  to  suggest  the  means  of  evading  them,  or 
to  insist  that  they  were  not  to  be  received  as  indications 
of  liis  own  feelings.  Meanwhile  lie  did  everything  in  his 
power  to  ruin  Oxford.  In  the  motion  for  the  further  se- 
curity of  the  Protestant  succession  he  affected  to  misun- 
derstand his  meaning.  When  the  Queen  was  insulted  by 
the  demand  made  by  Schutz,  lie  informed  her  that  the  de- 
mand had  been  suggested  by  the  Treasurer.  "When  Ox- 
ford had  nominated  Paget  as  envoy  to  Hanover,  Boling- 
broke  sent  Clarendon.  In  May  he  drew  up  that  Bill  which 
is  one  of  the  most  infamous  that  has  ever  polluted  our 
Legislature  —  the  Schism  Bill,  with  the  double  object  of 
conciliating  the  extreme  Tories,  and  of  reducing  his  rival  to 
a  dilemma — the  dilemma  of  breaking  with  the  Moderate 
Party  and  the  Dissenters  by  supporting  it,  or  of  breaking 
■with  the  extreme  Tories  by  opposing  it.  Oxford  saw 
through  the  stratagem.  Angry  recriminations  followed. 
Violent  scenes  occurred  every  day  in  the  House,  and  in  the 
Cabinet.  Bolingbroke  taunted  Oxford  with  incapacity 
and  faithlessness,  and  Oxford  retorted  by  declaring  that 
he  had  in  his  hands  proofs  of  Bolingbroke's  treachery  to 
Ilcrrenhausen.  Swift,  who  had  on  other  occasions  inter- 
posed as  mediator  between  his  two  friends,  saw  with  con- 
cern the  progress  of  these  fatal  dissensions.  He  hurried 
up  to  London,  and  had  several  interviews  with  the  rivals. 
He  implored  them,  in  their  own  interests,  in  the  interests 
of  their  party  and  in  the  interests  of  the  whole  Tory  cause, 


THE   rOLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLINGBROKE.  I'd 

to  lay  aside  these  internecine  hostilities.  lie  pointed  out 
that  everything  depended  on  their  mutual  co-operation ; 
that  their  partisans,  every  day  becoming  more  scattered 
and  perplexed,  must  be  united ;  that  they  could  only  be 
united  in  the  union  of  their  leaders;  that  too  much  pre- 
cious time  had  already  been  wasted ;  that  if  the  death  of 
the  Queen,  which  might  be  expected  at  any  hour,  surprised 
them,  they  would  be  buried  under  the  ruins  of  their  party. 
All,  however,  was  in  vain,  and  a  final  interview  at  Lord 
Masham's  convinced  him  that  reconciliation  was  out  of 
the  question.  As  a  parting  word,  he  advised  Oxford  to 
resign,  and  then  with  a  heavy  heart  hurried  off  to  bury 
himself  at  Letcombe.  Oxford  and  Bolingbroke  now  lost 
all  control  over  themselves.  Their  unseemly  altercations 
grew  every  day  more  violent,  and  became  not  only  the  jest 
and  scandal  of  coffee-house  politicians  and  ribald  wits,  but 
outraged  in  a  manner  gross  beyond  precedent  the  decorum 
of  the  Presence  Chamber.  Meanwhile  everything  was  hur- 
rying from  anarchy  into  dissolution.  "  Our  situation," 
wrote  Swift  to  Peterborough,  "  is  so  bad  that  our  enemies 
could  not  without  abundance  of  invention  and  ability  have 
placed  us  so  ill,  if  we  had  left  it  entirely  to  their  manage- 
ment." At  last  these  lamentable  scenes  drew  to  a  close. 
On  the  27th  of  July  Oxford  was  removed,  but  the  Queen 
was  in  a  dying  state. 

.^-Olillghroke  was  now  virtuallY_Jit-ihfi  bead  of  affairs. 
He  proceeded  at  once  with  characteristic  energy  to  grapple 
with  the  difficulties  of  his  position.  His  immediate  object 
was,  we  make  no  doubt,  to  amuse  the  Whigs  and  the  Han- 
overians while  he  rallied  the  Tories  an3^' the  Jacobites. 
With  this  view  he  entertained  at  dinner,  on  the  night  suc- 
ceeding Oxford's  dismissal,  a  party  of  the  leading  Whigs, 
solemnly  assuring  them  of  bis  intention  to  promote  the 

4 


n  ESSAYS. 

Protestant  Succession  in  the  House  of  Hanover.     lie  in- 
"&tructed  his  friend  Dniininond  also  to  send  Albemarle  with-   | 
a^snranc'cs  of  a  similar  effect  to  the  Elector  himself.     On 
the  sa'nTe  day  he  had  by  appointment  an  interview  with 
Oanltier,  informing  him  that  his  sentiments  towards  James  > 
had  nndcrgone  no  change,  but  observing  at  the  same  time 
that  James  should  immediately  take  such  steps  as  would 
recommend  him  to  the  favor  "  of  all  good  people."   It  may    ~ 
"*  help  to  throw  some  light  on  his  ultimate  designs,  to  ob- 
serve that  almost  every  member  of  his  projected  Ministry 
~was  to  be  chosen  from  the  ranks  of  the  most  advanced  Jac- 
'  obites.     Bromley  was  to  retain  the  Seals  as  Secretary  of 
State;  Ilarcourt  was  to  be  Chancellor ;  Buckingham,  Prcs- 
."  ident  of  the  Council ;  Ormond,  Commander-in-chief  ;  Mar 
was  to  be  Secretary  of  State  for  Scotland ;  and  the  Privy  J^ 
"^eal  was  to  be  transferred  to  Atterbury.     For  himsejf  he, 
^^  merely  proposed  to  hold  the  Seals  of  Secretary  of  State, 
""     with  the  sole  management  of  the  foreign  correspondence. 
He  would  willingly  have  possessed  himself  of  the  White 
Staff,  but  he  feared  Shrewsbury,  and  he  had  the  mortifica- 
tion of  perceiving  that  even  his  own  colleagues  doubted 
his  fitness  for  such  a  post.     "  Bis  character  is  too  bad," 
J  wrote  Lewis  to  Swift,  "  to  carry  the  great  ensigns."     He 

^ — —/  thought  it  prudent,  therefore,  to  keep  the  Treasury  in  com- 
1  /  mission,  with  his  creature  Sir  William  Wyndham  at  the 
I     /        head  of  it. 

-ryi  In  tljcjnjdst  of  these  pf^^ralivms  alMrMiin^'4H4^11igpnf^e , 

/      /  arrived  from  Kensington.     The^Queen  had  been  stricken 
d*owft-by- apoplexy.     ATJounclLAvas^suramoned  to  the  pal- 
/f.-^ttr. — Bulinghroke  was  in  an  agQny_£»f  apprehenaiaxL     He 
r  If  eared  that  the  crash  had  come.      He  knew  that  Marl- 
borough  was  on  his  way  t.o  England,  and  that  in  a  few  -^ 
hours  the  army  would  be  awaiting  his  orders.     lie  kucw 


THE  rOLITICAL  LIFE  OF  BOLIXGBROKE.  15 

that  Stanliopc  had,  in  the  van  of  a  powerful  confederatioa, 
'ifWings,  made  arrangements  for  seizing  the  Tower,  for 
oIJtMntng  p'ossession  of  the  outposts,  and  for  proclaiming 
rl) e  Elector.  He  knew  tliat  Argyle  and  SomersctJmdJ>een 
busy,  that  Somers  bad  shaken  off  his  lethargy,  and  that  the 
'WhigT  were  mustering  their  forces  in  terrible  strength. 
lie  saw  that  the  Tories — torn  with  internal  dissensions, 

^ivid^edju  their  aims,  scattered,^  helpless,  and  without  lead- 
ers— must  go  down  before  the  storm.  But  he  clung  des- 
perately "to  one  hope.  If  Shrewsbury  would  deelare  in  fa- 
Tor  of'ttfera,  all  might  yet  be  well.     Shrewsbury  had  been 

Ins  aHy  in  the  great  crisis^f  f^lO.  Shrewsbury  had  re- 
cently stood  by  him  in  an  important  debate.  He  had  not, 
it  was  true,  committed  himself  to  any  definite  expression 
oT  Ks  opinions,  but  his  bias  towards  the  House  of  Stuart 
was  welLknown.*  That  treaclierous,  fickle,  and  pusillani- 
mous statesman  had,  however,  already  made  up  his  mind. 
With  every  desire  to  serve  the  Tories,  he  had  satisfied  him- 
setf-©f-4he-impossibility  of  rallying  theiia- i«  time,  and  had 
dt5cided  therefore  to  abandon  them.  With  all  his  senti- 
mc^nts  in  unison  with  those  of  Bolingbroke  and  Ormond, 

"■he  saw  that  Bolingbroke  and  Ormond  were  on  the  losing 
side^-and  he  had  therefore  concerted  measures  with  Argyle 
and  Somerset.  The  Council  met  on  Friday  morning,  July 
30th.  On  Friday  afternoon  it  became  known  that  Shrews- 
biiry  had  coalesced  with  the  Whigs,  and  had  received  the 
White  Staff  from  the  hands  of  his  dying  mistress.  On 
Saturday  aftcrridnii   almost  every  arrangement  had   been 

*  That  Bolingbroke  had  good  reason  for  believing  tliat  Shrews- 
bury would  support  him  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  Shrewsbury  was 
not  long  afterwards  in  league  with  the  Jacobites — "  frankly  engaged 
and  very  sanguine."  For  this  remarkable  fact  see  the  "  Stuart  Pa- 
pers," under  date  August  20,  1715. 


76  ESSAYS. 

completed  for  carrying  out  the  Act  of  Settlement.  On 
Sunday  morning  Anne  was  no  more,  and  Bolingbroke  was 
a  cipher.  "  The  Queen  died  on  Sunday.  What  a  world 
is  this,  and  how  docs  Fortune  banter  us  1"  were  the  words 
in  which^the  jjafScd^t atCSm an  comiTiunicated  the  intcHi- 
gcncc^^^^Yif<"  Fortune  was,  however,  bent  on  something 
*i^iore  serious  than  banter. 

But  here  for  the  present  we  pause.  Up  to  this  point 
the  biography  of  Bolingbroke  has  been  the  parliamentary 
history  of  England  during  fourteen  stirring  and  eventful 
years.  He  was  now  about  to  figure  on  a  widely  different 
stage,  in  a  widely  different  character. 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE. 


SUMMARY. 


Importance  of  this  period,  p.  79-81 — Retrospect  at  tlic  close  of 
Bolingbroke's  political  career — What  next?  p.  81 — Bolingbroke's 
schemes,  p.  82,  83 — Bis  advances  not  encouraged  by  the  Elector : 
arrival  of  the  King  in  England,  p.  84 — Tiie  Whigs  come  into  power: 
their  ^celings  against  the  late  Government,  p.  84-86 — Bolingbroke's 
attempt  at  self-justification  unsuccessful,  p.  85,  86 — Threatening  pros- 
pects, p.  86,  87 — Bolingbroke,  scared,  takes  to  flight,  p.  87,  88 — Im- 
prudence of  this  step,  p.  89-91 — Ilis  arrival  in  Paris:  intrigues  with 
both  Parties,  p.  90 — His  arraignment  in  Parliament  by  Walpole :  con- 
siderations thereon,  p.  90-92 — Ilis  indictment  and  condemnation  as 
an  outlaw,  p.  93 — Character  of  the  Pretender :  reasons  which  guided 
Bolingbroke  in  espousing  his  cause,  p.  93-98 — Bolingbroke  organizes 
the  Jacobite  movement  in  Paris :  disappointments  and  trials,  p.  97-99 
— Circumstances  favorable  to  the  cause,  p.  99-101 — Bolingbroke  as 
a  negotiator,  p.  100-102 — Inauspicious  events  :  death  of  Louis  XIV., 
flight  of  Ormond,  p.  102-104 — Declining  prospects  of  the  Jacobite 
cause:  its  collapse,  p.  104,  105 — Bolingbroke's  self-devotion  thank- 
lessly rewarded:  his  dismissal  by  the  Ciievalier,  p.  lOG-108 — Satis- 
faction at  the  Court  of  St.  James,  p.  108 — Bolingbroke  kept  in  ex- 
pectancy, p.  109 — ITis  retirement  and  private  studies,  p.  109-114 — 
Connection  with  the  Marquise  do  Villette  and  subsequent  marriage, 
p.  113, 114 — Literary  pursuits,  p.  114-117 — Friendship  with  Voltaire, 
p.  117-121 — His  desire  to  return  to  England  repeatedly  thwarted: 
at  last  acceded  to,  p.  121 — Bolingbroke's  overtures  to  Walpole  and 
Carteret,  p.  121-124 — His  offer  of  intercession  at  the  French  Court 
declined  by  Walpole,  p.  125,  126 — Walpole  averse  to  restore  him  to 
his  civil  rights:  at  last  forced  to  do  so  by  the  King,  p.  125-127 — 
Bolingbroke's  double  life,  p.  128. 


LORD  BOLTNGBROKE  IN  EXILE. 

We  now  propose  to  trace  the  fortunes  of  Bolingbroke 
from  an  event  which  speedily,  indeed,  reduced  him  to  in- 
significance as  a  statesman,  but  which  marked  the  com- 
mencement of  what  is,  beyond  question,  the  most  interest- 
ing and  instructive  portion  of  his  personal  history.  From 
1690  to  1704  his  career  differs  little  from  that  of  other 
clever  and  dissolute  youths  with  indulgent  relatives  and 
with  good  expectations.  From  1704  to  1714  it  is,  if  we 
except  the  short  interval  of  his  retirement,  that  of  a  thriv- 
ing and  busy  politician,  whose  life  is  too  essentially  bound 
up  with  contemporary  history  to  present  those  features  of 
individual  interest  which  are  the  charm  of  biography.  But 
from  1714  to  1752  it  assumes  an  entirely  new  character. 
During  this  period  he  passed,  in  rapid  succession,  through 
a  scries  of  vicissitudes  whicli  it  would  be  difficult  to  par- 
allel even  in  fiction.  During  this  period  he  played  ianu- 
merable  parts.  He  became  identified  with  almost  every 
movement  of  the  public  mind  in  Europe,  with  political 
opinion,  with  polite  letters,  with  the  speculations  of  science, 
with  the  progress  of  free-thought,  with  historical  and  met- 
aphysical discussion.  lie  became  the  teacher  of  men 
whose  genius  has  shed  lustre  on  the  literature  of  two  na- 
tions, and  with  whose  names  his  own  is  impcrishably  asso- 
ciated, lie  produced  writings  which  are,  it  is  true,  too 
unsound,  too  immature,  and  too  fragmentary  to  hold  a 
high  place  in  didactic  philosophy,  but  which  were  of  great 


80  ESSAYS. 

service  in  stimulating  inquiry,  and  which  are,  regarded  as 
compositions,  second  to  none  in  our  language.  From  1726 
to  1742  the  influence  he  exercised  on  English  politics  was 
such  as  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  overestimate.  He  was 
the  soul  of  the  most  powerful  Coalition  which  ever  gath- 
ered on  the  Opposition  benches.  lie  kept  the  country  in 
a  constant  ferment.  He  inaugurated  a  new  era  in  the  an- 
nals of  Party.  lie  made  Jacobitism  contemptible.  He 
reconstructed  the  Tory  creed.  Of  the  Patriots  he  was  at 
once  the  founder  and  dictator.  To  his  energy  and  skill  is, 
in  a  largo  measure,  to  be  attributed  that  tremendous  revo- 
lution which  drove  Walpole  from  office,  and  changed  the 
face  of  political  history.  And  yet  this  is  the  period  of 
his  life  of  which  his  biographers  have  least  to  say.  With 
them  he  ceases  to  be  important  when  he  ceases  to  be  con- 
spicuous. They  do  not  perceive  that  the  part  he  played 
was  exactly  the  part  which  Thucydides  tells  us  was  played 
by  Antiphon  in  the  great  drama  of  b.c.  411 — the  part  of 
one  who,  unseen  himself,  directs  everything.  Of  his  liter- 
ary achievements  their  account  is,  if  possible,  still  more 
vague  and  meagre.  Indeed,  Mr.  Cooke  and  Mr.  Macknight 
appear  to  have  no  conception  of  the  nature  and  extent  of 
his  influence  on  the  intellectual  activity  of  his  age.  They 
have  not  even  discussed  his  relations  with  Pope  and  Vol- 
taire. They  have  not  even  furnished  us  with  a  critical 
analysis  of  his  principal  works ;  and  what  they  have  omit- 
ted to  do  no  one  has  done  since.  We  shall  therefore  make 
no  apology  for  entering  with  some  minuteness  into  the 
particulars  of  this  portion  of  his  life.  It  divides  itself  nat- 
urally into  three  periods.  The  first  extends  from  his  fall, 
in  1714,  to  his  reappearance  in  England  in  1723 ;  the  sec- 
ond extends  from  1723  to  his  departure  for  the  Continent 
in  1735  ;  and  the  third  is  terminated  by  his  death  in  1752. 


LORD  BOLIXGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  81 

On  the  death  of  Anne  it  became  at  once  apparent  that 
any  attempt  to  set  aside  the  Act  of  Settlement  would  be 
vain.  Atterbnrv,  indeed,  importuned  Bolingbrohe  to  ap- 
peal to  the  nation,  and  to  declare  open  war  with  Hanover. 
He  offered,  himself,  to  lead  the  forlorn  hope.  He  was 
willing,  he  said,  to  head  a  procession  to  Charing  Cross, 
and  to  proclaim,  in  full  canonicals,  the  accession  of  James 
HI.  But  his  proposal  found  little  favor.  Bolingbroke 
saw  that  all  was  over,  and  that  for  the  present,  at  least, 
things  must  take  their  natural  course.  It  must,  in  truth, 
have  been  obvious  to  a  man  of  far  less  discernment  than 
lie  that  the  position  of  the  Hanoverians  was  impregnable. 
Their  leaders  were  united,  their  arrangements  had  been 
judicious.  They  were  in  possession  of  all  the  means  which 
command  dominion — of  the  fleet,  of  the  army,  of  the  gar- 
risoned towns,  of  the  Tower.  The  recent  divisions  in  the 
Cabinet,  the  unpopularity  of  the  Commercial  Treaty,  and 
the  sudden  death  of  the  Queen,  had  confounded  the  To- 
ries. Their  only  chance  was  to  outbid  the  Whigs  in  loyal 
zeal  for  Hanover,  to  purify  themselves  from  all  taint  of 
Jacobitism,  and  to  leave  the  few  desperate  fanatics  who 
still  held  out  for  James  to  their  fate.  Such  was  clearly 
their  policy,  and  such  was  the  course  that  Bolingbroke 
now  prepared  to  take.  That  it  was  his  original  intention 
to  set  aside  the  Act  of  Settlement  it  would,  in  spite  of  his 
repeated  assurances  to  the  contrary,  be  absurd  to  doubt. 
It  would  be  equally  absurd  to  suppose  that  he  had,  so  far 
as  conscience  or  feeling  was  concerned,  any  bias  in  favor 
cither  of  Hanover  or  St.  Germains.  He  was  as  destitute 
of  sentiment  as  he  was  destitute  of  principle.  From  the 
moment  he  entered  public  life  his  interests  had  centred 
and  ended  in  himself.  To  crush  Marlborough  and  to  sup- 
plant Oxford  lie  had  found  it  expedient  to  ally  himself 
4* 


82  ESSAYS. 

with  tlie  extreme  Tories.  In  allying  himself  with  tliat 
faction  it  liad  become  necessary  to  identify  himself  witli 
tlie  Jacobites.  But  lie  knew  Jiis  danger.  lie  had  tried 
liard  to  stand  well  with  George  as  well  as  with  James, 
lie  had  regularly  corresponded  with  both  of  them.  He 
had  sworn  allegiance  to  both  of  them.  Tlie  exigencies  of 
his  struggle  with  Oxford  had,  however,  necessitated  a  de- 
cided course,  and  at  the  beginning  of  1V14  he  was  fatally 
compromised.  He  saw  that  the  Whigs  had  then  succeed- 
ed in  making  the  succession  a  party  question.  lie  saw 
that  if  the  Elector  ascended  the  throne,  he  would  ascend 
it  as  the  head  of  the  Whig  faction ;  and  that  if  the  Tories 
were  to  maintain  the.  supremacy,  they  must  maintain  it 
under  a  Tory  king.  He  saw  that  the  Elector  regarded 
him  with  suspicion  and  dislike.  He  saw  that  the  return 
of  the  Whigs  to  power  would  in  all  likelihood  consign 
him  at  once  to  impotence  and  ignominy.  He  was  therefore 
bound  by  all  considerations  of  self-interest  to  attach  himself 
to  James,  and  of  his  intrigues  in  favor  of  James  we  have  am- 
ple proofs.  Circumstances  had,  however,  gone  against  him, 
and  it  was  now  necessary  to  retrace  his  steps.  Though  his 
prospects  were  far  from  promising,  they  were  not  hopeless. 
If  he  could  not  transform  himself  into  a  Whig,  he  could 
at  least  abandon  the  Jacobites  and  figure  as  a  zealous  Han- 
overian. It  was  just  possible  that  the  new  king  might 
adopt  the  policy  of  William,  and  consent  to  a  coalition. 
The  Tories  were,  after  all,  a  formidable  body,  and  there 
was  little  likelihood  of  repose  in  any  government  in  which 
the  land  interest  and  the  Church  were  not  powerfully  rep- 
resented. Of  these  representatives  he  was  the  acknowl- 
edged leader.  The  Elector  was  notoriously  a  man  of 
peace,  and  averse  to  extreme  measures.  He  had  undoubt- 
edly flung  himself  upon  the  Whigs,  but  it  had  been  from 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  83 

motives  of  policy.  Such,  if  \vc  may  judge  from  his  cor- 
respondence, were  Bolingbrokc's  reticctious  as  lie  watched 
from  his  window  in  Golden  Square  the  flare  of  the  bon- 
fires in  which  his  eflBgy  was  crackling. 

He  lost  no  time  in  expressing  in  abject  terras  his  devo- 
tion to  his  new  master.  "  Quoique  jo  crains  d'etre  im- 
portun" — so  ran  his  letter — "je  ne  saurois  me  dispenser 
plus  long-tcms  et  de  suivre  mon  inclination  ct  dc  la'acquit- 
ter  de  mon  devoir."  lie  enlarged  on  the  fidelity  with 
which  he  had  served  Anne,  congratulated  himself  on  being 
the  servant  of  so  great  a  prince  as  her  successor,  and  con- 
cluded by  observing  that  in  whatever  station  he  might  be 
employed  he  could  at  least  promise  integrity,  diligence,  and 
loyalty.  During  the  next  three  weeks  there  was  much  to 
encourage  liira.  The  Council  of  Regency  had,  it  is  true, 
submitted  him  to  the  indignity  of  being  superseded  by 
their  secretary.  But  Clarendon's  despatches  from  Hanover 
were  favorable.  Goertz,  one  of  the  Elector's  confidential 
advisers,  was  openly  enlisted  in  the  Tory  cause.  There 
were  already  signs  of  disunion  in  the  Ministry,  and  Halifax 
bad  even  suggested  that  Bromley  should  be  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer,  and  Hanmer  one  of  the  Tellers.  It  was 
confidently  rumored  that  the  King,  so  far  from  having  de- 
cided to  crush  the  Tories,  was  even  hesitating  as  to  which 
of  the  two  factions  should  be  preferred  to  honor.  This 
report  emanated,  we  suspect,  from  Bothmar.  That  wily 
diplomatist  had  seen  all  along  the  expediency  of  amusing 
the  Tories  till  the  arrival  of  George  should  settle  the  king- 
dom. The  general  tranquillity  of  affairs  had  by  no  means 
thrown  him  off  his  guard.  He  was  too  well  acquainted 
with  the  history  of  revolutions  not  to  know  that  the  first 
thing  generated  by  them  is  ambition,  and  that  the  last 
things  changed  by  them  are  principles. 


84  ESSAYS. 

It  was  now  late  in  August,  and  Bolingbroke  was  await- 
ing with  sonic  anxiety  a  reply  to  his  letter.  The  answer 
arrived  on  the  twcnty-eightli,  in  the  form  of  an  express, 
addressed  not  to  himself  but  to  the  Council  of  Regency, 
lie  was  summarily  dismissed  from  his  post  of  Secretary  of 
State ;  his  office  was  to  be  put  under  lock  and  key ;  his 
papers  were  to  be  seized  and  scaled  up.  This  disagreeable 
intelligence  he  affected  to  receive  with  indifference.  It 
shocked  him,  he  says — for  at  least  two  minutes;  "but," 
he  added,  "  the  grief  of  my  soul  is  this — I  see  plainly  that 
the  Tory  party  is  gone."  * 

On  the  evening  of  the  18th  of  September,  the  King 
landed  at  Greenwich,  and  Bolingbroke  hurried  up  from 
Bucklcrsbury  to  offer  his  congratulations.  His  worst  fears 
were  soon  verified.  The  Tories  had  learned,  indeed,  some 
days  before  that  they  were  to  be  excluded  from  all  share 
in  the  Government,  but  they  had  not  yet  learned  that  they 
were  to  be  excluded  from  all  sliare  in  the  royal  favor. 
They  were  at  once  undeceived.  Their  leaders  were  treated 
with  contempt.  Ormond  and  Harcourt  failed  to  extort 
even  a  glance  of  recognition;  Oxford  was  openly  insulted  ; 
Bolingbroke  was  not  permitted  to  present  himself.  This 
was  the  signal  which  had  been  long  expected.  For  some 
weeks  the  struggle  between  the  two  great  factions  had 
been  suspended.  A  great  victory  had  been  won,  but  the 
ultimate  issue  of  that  victory  depended  upon  the  attitude 
of  the  new  sovereign.  The  prostrate  Tories  trusted  to  his 
moderation,  for  protection  ;  the  Whigs  to  his  gratitude,  for 
revenge.  Till  he  declared  himself,  the  combatants  could 
only  stand  glaring  at  one  another.  Between  the  death 
of  Anne  and  his  reception  at  Greenwich,  George's  policy 

*  Letter  to  Attcrbury,  Macpherson's  "Original  Papers,"  vol.  ii., 
p.  651. 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  85 

had  been  studiously  concealed ;  his  Ministers  had  been 
feeding  both  parties  with  hopes,  and  the  majority  of  men 
had  been  deceived.  Now,  however,  all  was  clear.  His  pre- 
tended neutrality  had  been  a  mere  trick  to  effect  a  peace- 
able entrance.  He  had  come,  not  as  a  mediator  but  as  a 
partisan ;  not  as  the  guardian  of  the  common  interests  of 
his  people,  but  as  the  leader  of  an  insolent  and  vindictive 
faction.  In  less  than  a  month  the  three  kingdoms  were 
again  on  fire  with  civil  fury.  The  Whigs,  eager  to  in- 
demnify themselves  for  long  oppression,  were  bent  on  noth- 
ing less  than  the  utter  destruction  of  their  rivals.  The 
Tories,  fighting  against  fearful  odds,  were  driven  in  despair 
to  take  a  course  which,  for  forty-five  years,  reduced  them 
to  impotence  in  the  Senate,  and  which  brought  many  of 
them  to  the  scaffold. 

On  the  iVth  of  March  the  Houses  met,  and  Bolingbroke 
appeared  as  leader  of  the  Opposition.  The  King's  Speech, 
which  was  read  by  Cowper,  was  judicious  and  temperate. 
With  the  Addresses  in  answer  the  war  began.  The  Op- 
position took  their  stand  on  a  clause  in  which  the  House 
had  expressed  their  hope  that  his  Majesty  would  recover 
the  reputation  of  the  kingdom.  This  the  Tories  very  prop- 
erly interpreted  as  a  reflection  on  the  conduct  of  their 
chiefs.  A  warm  debate  ensued,  and  Bolingbroke  rose  for 
the  last  time  to  address  that  assembly  which  had  so  often 
listened  to  him  with  mingled  aversion  and  pleasure.  His 
speech  was  an  elaborate  defence  of  his  foreign  and  domes- 
tic policy.  Ho  paid  a  pathetic  tribute  to  the  memory  of 
the  late  Queen,  and  he  addressed  a  still  more  pathetic  ap- 
peal to  the  wisdom,  equity,  and  moderation  of  the  reign- 
ing sovereign.  He  was  willing  to  be  punished  if  he  had 
done  amiss,  but  he  thought  it  hard  to  be  condemned  un- 
heard.    He  then  proceeded  to  deal  in  detail  with  the  trans- 


86  ESSAYS. 

actions  in  which  lie  was  so  deeply  concerned,  and  he  con- 
chided  a  long  and  masterly  harangue  by  moving  that  the 
word  "maintain"  should  be  substituted  for  the  word  "re- 
cover." lie  was  supported  by  the  Earl  of  Strafford  and 
the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury.  But  all  his  efforts  were  vain. 
The  motion  was  rejected  by  an  overwhelming  majority. 
In  the  Lower  House  the  late  Government  fared  even  worsc^ 
There  Walpole  openly  charged  them  with  being  in  league 
with  James,  and  stated  that  it  was  his  intention  and  the 
intention  of  his  colleagues  to  bring  them  to  justice.  What 
Walpole  announced  was  repeated  with  still  more  emphasis 
and  acrimony  by  Stanhope.  Endeavors  had,  he  said,  been 
made  to  prevent  a  discovery  of  the  late  mismanagement, 
by  conv(Jying  away  several  papers  from  the  Secretaries' 
offices;  but  there  still  remained  ample  evidence  against 
them,  evidence  which  would  not  only  prove  their  corrup- 
tion, but  place  it  beyond  doubt  that  far  more  serious 
charges  could  be  established. 

Bolingbroke  now  saw  that  the  storm  was  gathering  fast. 
Ilis  private  secretary  had  indeed  succeeded  in  defeating 
the  vigilance  of  the  Government,  by  concealing  such  papers 
as  might  be  prejudicial.  Almost  all  those  witnesses  Avho 
could  conclusively  prove  his  treason  were  either  out  of 
reach  or  above  temptation  to  treachery.  Azzurini  was  in 
the  Bastile,  Gautier  had  retired  to  France,  D'Iberville  was 
protected  by  his  diplomatic  character,  De  Torcy  was  the 
soul  of  honor.  But  there  was  one  man  whom  Boling- 
broke had  for  many  years  loved  and  trusted  as  a  brother, 
who  had  been  his  companion  in  business  and  pleasure,  who 
had  shared  all  his  secrets.  That  man  was  Prior.  Prior 
had  recently  arrived  from  France.  The  emissaries  of  Stan- 
hope and  Walpole  had  been  busy  with  him,  and  Boling- 
broke heard  with  terror  and  astonishment  that  his  old  friend 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  87 

li;id  promised  to  reveal  everytbing.  This  report,  for  ■which, 
as  it  afterwards  turned  out,  there  was  not  the  shghtest 
foundation,  had  the  more  weight  because  it  appeared  to 
confirm  what  had  reached  him  from  another  quarter.  lie 
had  been  informed  that  the  Whigs  bad  engaged  to  bring 
him  to  the  scaffold,  tliat  they  had  entered  into  an  alliance 
of  which  his  blood  was  to  be  the  cement,  and  that  all  at- 
tempts to  defend  himself  would  be  vain,  for  sentence  had 
virtually  been  passed.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  this 
alarming  intelligence  was,  under  the  guise  of  friendship, 
conveyed  to  him  by  Marlborough,  and  that  it  was  part  of 
an  ingenious  manoeuvre  suggested  by  Walpole  and  Stan- 
hope to  induce  him  to  leave  the  country — a  step  which 
would  enable  them  to  proceed  against  him  by  Act  of  At- 
tainder, and  to  accomplish  without  difficulty  his  destruc- 
tion.    The  stratagem  succeeded. 

On  Saturday,  the  26th  of  March,  it  was  reported  in  Lon- 
don that  Bolingbrokc  had  fled.  The  report  was  at  first 
received  with  contemptuous  incredulity.  He  had  been 
seen  by  hundreds  the  night  before  in  his  usual  high  spirits 
at  Drury  Lane,  where  he  had,  from  his  box,  complimented 
the  actors  and  bespoken  a  play  for  the  next  evening.  He 
had  repeatedly  assured  his  friends — and  his  friends  were 
to  be  found  in  every  coffee-house  in  the  town — that  he 
was  under  no  apprehensions  of  what  bis  enemies  might 
do.  He  was  only  anxious  for  an  opportunity  to  clear  him- 
self, and  that  opportunity  would,  be  said,  be  provided  by 
the  Parliamentary  inquiry  then  pending.  In  a  few  days 
all  was  known.  The  greatest  excitement  prevailed  in  po- 
litical circles,  and  this  excitement  was  sliortly  afterwards 
increased  by  the  intelligence  that  a  man  who  had  assisted 
in  effecting  the  escape  of  the  fallen  Minister  was  in  custo- 
dy.    The  man's  name  was  Morgan,  and  he  held  a  commis- 


88  ESSAYS. 

sion  in  the  Marines.  In  tlic  course  of  his  examination 
before  the  Privy  Council  lie  stated  that  he  had  met  Bol- 
ingbrokc,  disguised  as  a  French  courier,  and  travelling  as 
the  servant  of  a  king's  messenger,  named  La  Vigne,  at 
Dover;  tliat  he  had  at  one  time  been  under  obligation  to 
him,  and  that  when  Bolingbroke  revealed  himself  and 
begged  for  a  passage  to  Calais,  he  had  not  had  the  heart 
to  refuse  him.  This  statement  liad  been  alrcad}'  supple- 
mented by  communications  from  Bolingbroke  himself.  lie 
liad  written  to  Lord  Lansdowne  and  he  had  written  to  his 
father.  The  letter  to  Lansdowne  was  published.  It  was 
dated  from  Dover.  He  had  left  England,  he  said,  not  be- 
cause he  was  conscious  of  any  guilt,  not  because  he  shrank 
from  any  investigation,  but  because  his  foes  had  resolved 
to  shed  his  blood.  And  he  challenged  the  most  inveter- 
ate of  those  foes  to  produce  a  single  instance  of  criminal 
correspondence  on  his  part,  or  a  single  proof  of  corrup- 
tion. Had  there  been  the  least  hope  of  obtaining  a  fair 
trial  he  should  have  stood  his  ground ;  but  he  had  been 
prejudged.  His  comfort  in  misfortune  would  be  the  mem- 
ory of  the  great  services  he  had  done  his  country,  and  the 
reflection  that  his  only  crime  consisted  in  being  too  patri- 
otic to  sacrifice  her  interests  to  foreign  allies.  This  letter 
was  not  considered  even  by  his  friends  as  a  very  satisfac- 
tory explanation  of  the  step  he  had  taken.  Several  harsh 
comments  were  made  on  it,  and  his  conduct  was  generally . 
regarded  as  reflecting  little  credit  either  on  his  judgment 
or  his  courage. 

His  flight  was,  in  truth,  the  greatest  blunder  of  his  life 
— a  blunder  which  it  is  scarcely  credible  that  any  one  pos- 
sessing a  particle  of  his  sagacity  and  experience  could  ever 
liave  committed.  A  moment's  calm  reflection  might  have 
shown  him  that  any  attempt  on  the  part  of  his  enemies  to 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  89 

bring  Lira  to  the  block  would  be  futile.  "Whatever  may 
have  been  the  measure  of  his  moral  guilt  in  the  negotia- 
tions with  France,  there  had  been  nothing  to  support  a 
capital  charge.  AVhatever  had  been  most  reprehensible 
in  his  conduct  had  been  sanctioned  by  the  Queen,  had 
been  sanctioned  by  two  Parliaments.  In  the  intrigues  with 
James  several  of  the  leading  AVhigs  had  been  as  deeply 
involved  as  himself,  and  of  his  own  intrigues  it  would,  even 
if  Prior  had  turned  traitor,  have  been  very  difficult  to  ob- 
tain corroborative  evidence.  The  temper  of  the  nation 
was  such  as  to  make  extreme  measures  eminently  impoli- 
tic. There  was  not  an  observant  statesman  in  England 
who  did  not  perceive  that  affairs  were  on  the  razor's  edge. 
The  King  had  already  made  many  enemies.  The  Govern- 
ment was  becoming  every  day  more  unpopular,  the  Oppo- 
sition more  powerful.  The  Tories  were  beginning  to  rally. 
The  schisms  which  had  at  the  end  of  the  last  reign  divided 
them  showed  symptoms  of  healing.  A  reaction  was  to  all 
appearance  merely  a  matter  of  time.  That  reaction  could 
scarcely  fail  to  be  hastened  by  the  impeachment  of  a  Min- 
ister so  representative  and  so  popular  as  himself.  By 
awaiting  his  trial  he  would,  therefore,  have  run  compara- 
tively little  risk.  By  his  flight  he  ruined  everything. 
Bolingbroke  has,  however,  seldom  the  magnanimity  to  ac- 
knowledge himself  in  error;  and  to  the  end  of  his  life  he 
continued,  both  in  his  writings  and  in  his  conversation,  to 
defend  this  suicidal  step.  The  account  which  he  after 
wards  gave  of  it  is  a  curious  instance  of  his  disingenuous- 
ncss.  lie  left  Etigland,  as  his  letter  to  Lord  Lansdowne 
proves,  in  panic  terror,  to  save  himself  from  the  scaffold. 
lie  left  England,  according  to  his  subsequent  statement, 
after  mature  deliberation,  not  to  save  himself  from  the 
scaffold,  not  because  he  was  afraid  of  his  enemies,  but  to 


90  ESSAYS. 

avoid  the  liiiiniliation  of  being  belioltlen  to  tlie  Wliimsi- 
cals  for  protection,  and  to  embarrass  Oxford. 

On  his  arrival  at  Paris  he  immediately  put  himself  into 
communication  with  Lord  Stair,  the  English  Ambassador. 
He  solemnly  promised  to  have  no  dealings  with  the  Jaco- 
bites, and  these  promises  he  reiterated  in  a  letter  to  Stan- 
hope. AVithin  a  few  hours  he  was  closeted  with  Berwick, 
assuring  him  of  his  sympathy,  assuring  him  that  all  was 
going  well  for  James  in  England,  but  adding  that,  for  the 
present  at  least,  he  must  refrain  from  any  public  co-oper- 
ation with  the  Jacobites.*  Having  thus,  by  a  piece  of 
double  duplicity,  established  relations  with  both  parties, 
and  provided  for  either  alternative,  he  proceeded  to  Dau- 
phine  to  watch  the  course  of  events. 

Meanwhile  his  enemies  in  England  had  not  bee»n  idle. 
Prior  had  been  arrested.  The  papers  relating  to  the  ne- 
gotiations with  France  had  been  called  for  and  produced. 
A  secret  committee  had  been  appointed  to  collect  and  ar- 
range evidence.  The  most  unscrupulous  means  had  been 
resorted  to  to  make  that  evidence  complete.  Private  cor- 
respondence had  been  seized  and  scrutinized.  The  escri- 
toires of  the  late  Queen  had  been  ransacked,  and  such  was 
the  malignant  industry  of  this  inquisition  that  in  six  weeks 
the  evidence  accumulated  by  them  amounted  to  no  less 
than  twelve  stout  volumes.  An  abstract  of  this  evidence 
was  drawn  up  by  Walpole  with  great  ability  in  the  form 
of  a  Report.  On  the  2d  of  June  he  informed  the  House 
that  the  Committee  were  in  a  position  to  communicate  the 
result  of  their  inquiries,  and  the  day  fixed  for  the  commu- 
nication was  that  day  week.  The  news  of  these  proceed- 
ings had  for  several  weeks  kept  the  two  factions  in  a  state 
bordering  on  frenzy.     The  Whigs  were  eager  to  enhance 

*  "  Memoirs  of  the  Duke  of  Berwick,"  vol  ii.,  p.  198. 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  91 

the  glory  of  tbeir  recent  triumph  by  the  meaner  satisfac- 
tion of  being  able  to  trample  on  a  fallen  foe.  The  treach- 
ery of  Bolingbroke  and  Oxford  would  now,  they  said,  be 
incontrovertibly  established.  They  would  be  punished  as 
they  deserved.  The  Tories,  on  the  other  hand — though 
Bolingbroke's  flight  had  been  a  great  shock  to  them — pro- 
fessed to  anticipate  very  different  results.  They  had  no 
fear  at  all,  they  answered,  of  any  such  investigation,  pro- 
vided only  it  were  properly  conducted ;  they  would  never 
believe  that  their  leaders  had  been  guilty  either  of  treason 
or  misdemeanor.  The  Whigs,  therefore,  took  their  stand 
by  Walpole  and  Stanhope ;  the  Tories,  with  the  exception 
of  the  Whimsicals,  identified  themselves  with  the  cause  of 
Bolingbroke  and  Oxford. 

The  important  day  arrived.  The  House  was  densely 
crowded.  Walpole  announced,  amid  a  breathless  silence, 
that  before  producing  his  Report  he  had  a  motion  to  pro- 
pose. He  must  request  the  Speaker  to  issue  warrants  for 
the  apprehension  of  several  persons.  Upon  that  the  lobby 
was  cleared,  the  doors  were  locked,  and  the  keys  laid  upon 
the  table.  The  persons  named  by  him  were  at  once  arrested, 
and  among  them  were  Thomas  Harley  and  Matthew  Prior. 
With  these  alarming  preliminaries  he  proceeded  to  deliver 
his  Report.  The  ceremony  occupied  many  hours;  when 
the  House  adjourned  it  was  not  concluded,  and  it  was  late 
in  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  before  the  last  folio 
was  read.  The  Whigs  had  triumphed.  The  Tories  saw 
that  defence  was  hopeless.  The  charge  of  Jacobitism  had 
not,  indeed,  been  satisfactorily  established,  and  it  was  open 
to  doubt  whether  anything  had  been  brought  forward 
which  was  technically  sufficient  to  support  a  charge  of 
high-treason.  But  of  the  moral  guilt  of  the  two  Ministers 
there  could  be  no  doubt.     Tlioy  had  sullied  the  national 


y2  ESSAYS. 

honor,  tlicy  liad  set  at  nanglit  the  most  sacred  tics  whicli 
can  bind  nations  together,  they  had  sacrificed  to  party  con- 
siderations the  common  interests  of  their  country,  they  had 
had  recourse  to  the  most  dishonorable  subterfuges.  The 
desertion  of  the  Dutch,  for  example  in  the  negotiations 
with  France,  and  tlie  suspension  of  arms  in  the  spring  of 
1712,  are  two  of  the  most  scandalous  incidents  in  the  an- 
nals of  diplomacy.  A  skilful  advocate  might  undoubtedly 
have  shown  that  these  misdemeanors,  grave  though  they 
were,  had  been  accompanied  with  extenuating  circum- 
stances. Ue  could  have  been  at  no  loss  to  prove  that  the 
termination  of  hostilities  with  France  was  not  only  expedi- 
ent but  necessary,  and  he  might  have  reasoned  that  if  the 
means  employed  had  been  reprehensible,  if  the  terms  ac- 
cepted had  been  inadequate,  the  blame  lay  with  the  vexa- 
tious opposition  of  the  Whigs  and  the  Allies.  He  would 
not,  we  think,  have  had  much  difficulty  in  refuting  such 
evidence  as  the  prosecution  had  then  been  able  to  obtain 
touching  the  intrigues  with  James.  He  could  have  pro- 
tested, and  have  protested  with  justice,  against  the  sophis- 
try to  which  Walpole  had  resorted  in  his  endeavors  to 
heighten  the  minor  charge  of  high  crimes  and  misdemean- 
ors into  the  most  serious  charge  which  the  law  knows. 
On  this  point  the  Whigs  undoubtedly  went  too  far.  The 
moral  delinquency  of  Oxford  and  Bolingbroke  can  scarcely 
be  exaggerated,  but  there  had  been  nothing  in  their  con- 
duct to  warrant  a  charge  of  high-treason.  The  evidence 
on  which  the  Whigs  succeeded  in  establishing  their  case  is 
well  known.  It  was  proved  that  in  the  negotiations  with 
De  Torcy,  Bolingbroke  had  endeavored  to  procure  for 
France  the  city  of  Tournay.  The  possession  of  Tournay 
was  for  the  advantage  of  the  French,  with  whom  we  were 
at  that  time  in  open  hostility.     The  attempt  was,  therefore, 


LORD  BOLIXGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  93 

interpreted  as  an  adherence  to  the  Queen's  enemies,  and 
adherence  to  the  enemies  of  the  Crown  had,  by  a  Statute 
of  Edward  III.,  been  pronounced  high-treason.  The  an- 
swer to  this  was  obvious.  Tournay,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
had  not  been  surrendered.  Had  the  place  been  actually 
abandoned  the  sacrifice  would  have  done  no  injury  to  Eng- 
land, for  Tournay  did  not  belong  to  her.  The  proposal, 
moreover,  had  been  made  not  with  a  view  to  benefit  the 
French,  but  with  a  view  to  benefit  the  English.  The 
Queen  herself  had  been  a  party  to  the  proposal,  and  when 
there  seemed  probability  of  disapprobation  the  project  had 
been  abandoned.  But  the  temper  of  the  House  was  such 
that  none  of  the  partisans  of  the  late  Ministers  had  the 
courage  to  undertake  their  defence.  Hanmcr,  indeed,  rose 
to  move  that  further  consideration  of  the  Report  should 
be  deferred  till  the  members  had  been  served  with  copies. 
To  this  Walpole  and  Stanhope  declined  to  accede.  AVal- 
pole  then  rose  and  impeached  Bolingbroke  of  high-trea- 
son. On  the  6th  of  the  following  month  Walpole  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  bar  of  the  Upper  House.  On  the 
14th  of  September  Bolingbroke  was  an  attainted  outlaw. 
We  have  little  doubt  that  had  he  remained  in  England 
this  terrible  sentence  would  never  have  been  passed.  Many 
of  the  Whigs  had,  we  now  know,  serious  misgivings  about 
its  justice.  Some  had  even  refused  to  sanction  it.  The 
wise  and  moderate  Somers  had  expressed  his  dissent  in 
the  most  emphatic  terms,  and  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to 
compare  the  vindictive  proceedings  of  Walpole  and  Stan- 
hope to  the  proscriptions  of  Marius  and  Sulla.  But  the 
minds  of  the  most  scrupulous  were  soon  to  be  set  at  rest. 
Before  the  measure  had  passed  into  law  it  had  unhappily 
received  its  justification. 

We  have  now  arrived  at  a  period  in  Bolingbroke's  life 


9-1  ESSAYS. 

of  which  ho  has  himself  left  us  an  elaborate  account.  In 
the  Letter  to  Sir  William  Wyndham  he  narrates  the  cir- 
cumstances under  which  he  attached  himself  to  the  inter- 
ests of  the  Pretender,  and  he  professes  to  lay  bare  without 
reserve  the  motives  which  induced  him  to  take  this  unfort- 
unate step.  That  his  narrative  of  the  events  of  IVIS  is 
substantially  correct  we  have  not  the  smallest  doubt.  His 
principal  object  in  penning  it  was  to  cover  James  and  his 
projects  with  ridicule,  and  to  show  the  Tories  that  an  alli- 
ance with  the  Jacobites  meant  nothing  less  than  alliance 
with  disgrace  and  ruin.  This  object  was,  as  he  well  knew, 
best  attained  by  stating  simple  truth.  There  was  no  ne- 
cessity for  fiction ;  there  was  no  necessity  for  over-color- 
ing. Everything  that  the  art  of  the  satirist  could  do  to 
render  the  character  of  James  contemptible  Nature  had 
actually  done.  To  exaggerate  his  incapacity  was  superflu- 
ous, for  his  conduct  had  been  in  itself  the  quintessence  of 
folly.  To  make  his  Cabinet  the  laughing-stock  of  Europe, 
all  that  was  needed  was  to  preserve  with  exact  fidelity  its 
distinctive  features,  for  those  features  presented  in  tliem- 
selves  everything  that  the  most  malignant  caricaturist 
could  desire.  The  whole  drama  of  1715  was  in  truth 
such  a  ludicrous  exhibition  of  recklessness  and  misman- 
agement as  to  be  almost  without  parallel  in  history.  There 
is,  however,  one  portion  of  this  narrative  in  which  we  are 
not  inclined  to  place  much  confidence.  Bolingbroke  in- 
forms us  that  he  allied  himself  with  the  Jacobites,  not 
from  motives  of  self-interest,  but  from  the  loftiest  and  pur- 
est motives  which  can  animate  a  man  of  honor.  Till  his 
departure  from  England  he  was  the  acknowledged  leader 
of  the  Tory  party.  To  that  party  he  was,  he  said,  bound 
by  every  tie,  both  of  sentiment  and  principle.  Since  his 
exile  those  tics  had  been  drawn  closer.     The  Tories  had 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  95 

been  submitted  to  a  grinding  despotism.  They  had  been 
excluded  from  all  share  in  the  favor  of  the  new  king.  In 
Parliament  they  had  been  reduced  to  political  impotence. 
Principles  for  which  they  would  gladly  have  shed  their 
blood  were  trampled  under  the  feet  of  savage  and  vindic- 
tive foes.  Their  very  lives  were  at  the  mercy  of  syco- 
phants and  informers.  The  very  existence  of  Toryism 
was  at  stake,  xit  last,  partly  owing  to  the  conviction  that 
the  only  remedy  for  their  misfortunes  lay  in  a  change  of 
dynasty,  partly  owing  to  continued  persecution,  and  partly 
moved  by  resentment  at  the  measures  which  had  doomed 
their  chiefs  to  the  fate  of  traitors,  they  had  thrown  them- 
selves into  the  arras  of  the  Pretender.  In  this  extremity 
they  appealed  to  their  banished  leader,  and  he  responded 
to  their  call.  lie  anticipated  failure,  but  he  had,  he  said, 
no  choice.  As  the  servant  of  the  Tories  he  was  therefore 
forced  to  cast  in  his  lot  with  the  Jacobites,  and  as  the  serv- 
ant of  the  Tories  he  accepted  the  seals  from  James. 

Now  nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  Bolingbroke  had 
made  overtures  to  Berwick  several  weeks  before  any  ap- 
peal had  been  made  to  him  from  England  at  Commercy. 
Nay,  nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  from  the  October 
of  1712  he  had,  in  his  communications  with  DTberville 
and  Gautier,  repeatedly  declared  himself  in  favor  of  the 
Pretender.  He  had  accepted  the  seals  at  least  six  weeks 
before  the  Bill  of  Attainder  had  been  passed  —  a  fact 
which  he  always  denied,  but  which  is  now  placed  beyond 
doubt  by  the  date  of  his  first  letter  to  James,  preserved  in 
the  Stuart  Papers.  That  many  of  the  Tories  who,  previ- 
ous to  the  coronation  of  George,  held  no  communication 
with  the  Jacobites,  had,  by  the  violence  of  the  Whigs, 
been  driven  to  open  communications  with  them  is  unques- 
ti(;nably  true;  but  that  Bolingbroke  should  have  believed 


96  ESSAYS. 

for  one  instant  that  the  majority  of  the  Tories  would  have 
consented  to  set  a  Papist  on  the  throne  is  ludicrous.  And 
that  there  was  little  likelihood  of  the  Pretender  changing, 
or  even  affecting  to  change  his  religion,  he  has  himself  ad- 
mitted. 

The  appeal  made  to  him  emanated,  as  he  well  knew, 
from  a  small  knot  of  men  as  desperate  as  himself.  And 
the  simple  truth  is,  that  in  taking  this  step  he  was  guided, 
as  he  always  was  guided,  by  purely  personal  considerations. 
In  England  the  game  had  been  played  out.  The  Tories 
were  too  feeble  to  become  his  tools,  and  the  Whigs  too 
wise  to  become  his  dupes.  His  only  hope  lay  in  mis- 
chievous activity  and  in  the  chances  of  fortune.  He  clung 
to  the  cause  of  James,  not  as  an  honest  zealot  clings  to  a 
principle,  but  as  desperate  adventurers  clutch  at  opportu- 
nity. 

His  first  interview  with  his  new  master  was  not  encour- 
aging. "He  talked,"  says  Bolingbroke,  "like  a  man  who 
expected  every  moment  to  set  out  for  England  or  Scot- 
land, but  who  did  not  very  well  know  which."  Of  the 
state  of  his  affairs  the  Chevalier  gave,  indeed,  a  very  glow- 
ing account;  though  it  appeared  on  investigation  that  he 
had  arrived  at  his  satisfactory  conclusions  by  a  somewhat 
unsatisfactory  process.  In  other  words,  he  had  invented 
much,  assumed  more,  and  colored  everything.  For  the  fur- 
therance of  his  designs  it  was  soon  obvious  that,  in  spite 
of  all  his  blustering,  he  had  done  nothing.  He  assured 
Bolingbroke,  however,  that  everything  was  in  readiness, 
and  he  was,  he  said,  convinced  that  in  a  few  weeks  he 
should  be  on  the  throne  of  his  ancestors.  Bolingbroke 
consented  to  accept  the  seals,  which  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  interview  were  pressed  on  him,  but  he  left  his  new 
master  with  no  very  exalted  ideas  either  of  liis  character 


LORD  BOLIXGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  97 

or  of  his  capacity.  Indeed,  bo  afterwards  assured  Wjnd- 
ham  that  he  had  already  begun  to  repent  of  the  step  he 
liad  taken,  almost  as  soon  as  he  had  taken  it.  His  pene- 
trating eye  liad  probably  discerned  in  the  young  prince 
the  germs  of  those  odious  qualities  which  had,  in  the  per- 
son of  the  Second  James,  made  the  name  of  Stuart  a  syn- 
onyme  for  folly,  and  in  the  person  of  the  Second  Charles  a 
synonyme  for  ingratitude.  In  a  few  hours  he  received  his 
instructions,  lie  was  to  proceed  to  Paris,  which  was  to 
be  the  basis  of  operations.  He  was  to  put  himself  at  the 
head  of  the  Jacobite  party.  He  was  to  open  communica- 
tions with  the  United  Kingdona,  and  to  lose  no  time  in  so- 
liciting the  assistance  of  Louis. 

]>olingbroke  arrived  in  Paris  at  the  end  of  July.  He 
was  anxious  to  meet  his  coadjutors,  and  orders  were  at 
once  issued  for  the  Jacobite  Ministry  to  meet.  His  inter- 
view with  James  had  been  a  shock,  but  when  his  eyes  rested 
on  the  spectacle  which  now  presented  itself,  his  heart  sank 
within  him.  He  saw  before  him  a  sordid  rabble  of  both 
sexes.  They  appeared  to  have  no  bond  of  union,  but  had 
gathered  in  knots,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  enabled  to 
discover  that  they  represented  the  scum  of  four  nations. 
Their  hopes  were  high,  their  voices  were  loud ;  their  air 
and  gestures  indicated  boundless  self-importance.  Those 
who  could  read  and  write  had  papers  in  their  hands,  and 
those  who  could  neither  read  nor  write  were  contenting 
themselves  with  looking  raysterious.  On  analyzing  this 
assembly  into  its  constituent  parts,  he  perceived  that  it  con- 
sisted of  hot-headed  Irish  vagrants,  largely  recruited  from 
the  least  reputable  sections  of  Parisian  society ;  of  a  few 
Englishmen  who  had  been  glad  to  put  the  Channel  between 
themselves  and  their  infuriated  creditors;  and  of  several 
women  whose  characters  wcfe  more  obvious  than  respect- 

5 


98  ESSAYS. 

able.  To  tlicse  had  been  added  a  small  body  of  Scotch 
adventurers,  desperate  from  poverty  and  mad  with  fanati- 
cism. As  each  of  these  politicians  recoi^nized  no  leader 
but  James,  cacli,  in  the  absence  of  James,  had  proceeded 
on  the  principle  of  doing  what  was  right  in  his  own  eyes. 
Each  regarded  his  neighbor,  not  in  the  light  of  an  ally,  but 
in  the  light  of  a  rival;  and  as  nobody  had  looked  beyond 
himself,  nobody  had  advanced  one  step  towards  the  attain- 
ment of  what  could  only  be  attained  by  mutual  co-opera- 
tion. The  temper  of  such  assemblies  has  been  the  same 
in  all  ages.  The  only  counsellors  in  whom  they  have  any 
confidence  are  those  who  flatter  their  hopes ;  the  only  coun- 
sellors to  whom  they  refuse  to  listen  are  those  who  would 
teach  them  how  those  hopes  may  be  realized.  Everything 
is  seen  by  them  through  a  false  medium.  Their  imagina- 
tion is  the  dupe  of  their  vanity.  Their  reason  is  perverted 
by  their  passions.  As  their  distinguishing  features  are  ig- 
norance and  credulity,  they  are,  of  all  bodies  of  men,  the 
most  impracticable ;  for  the  first  renders  tliem  incapable  of 
discerning  their  true  interests,  and  the  second  keeps  them 
in  a  state  of  perpetual  agitation.  Never  were  these  pecul- 
iarities more  strikingly  illustrated  than  by  the  crowd  which 
now  surrounded  Bolingbroke.  The  public  discontent  in 
England  Ava-s  multiplied  a  thousand-fold.  Every  riot  was  a 
rebellion.  Every  street  brawl  portended  revolution.  Scot- 
land and  Ireland  were  on  the  point  of  rising.  The  Whig 
Cabinet  had  collapsed.  The  army  had  mutinied.  Nothing 
was  more  certain  than  that  in  a  few  weeks  James  would  be 
at  Whitehall,  and  George  in  exile.  Letters  and  despatches, 
which  had  in  truth  emanated  from  men  of  the  same  charac- 
ter as  those  with  whom  they  corresponded,  were  produced 
to  prove  the  truth  of  this  rhodomontade.  It  was  useless  to 
reason  with  these  fanatics.     It  was  useless  to  point  out  to 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  99 

tlicra  that  the  battle  had  yet  to  be  fought,  and  that,  if  vic- 
tory came,  it  would  not  come  spontaneously,  but  as  the 
prize  of  valor  and  prudence. 

Coliugbroke  now  clearly  saw  that  to  have  any  chance  of 
success  he  must  stand  alone.  Uc  could  rely  on  no  assist- 
ance from  his  master,  he  could  expect  nothing  but  embar- 
rassment from  his  colleagues  in  Paris.  He  proceeded  at 
once  to  grapple  with  the  difficulties  of  his  position,  and  he 
grappled  with  them  as  few  men  liave  ever  grappled  with  dif- 
ficulties so  arduous  and  complicated.  At  this  moment  the 
prospects  of  the  Jacobites  were  not  unpromising.  Among 
the  States  of  Europe  there  was  scarcely  one  which  regarded 
the  accession  of  the  House  of  llano ver  with  favor.  Louis 
XIV.  took  no  pains  to  conceal  the  fact  that  nothing  but 
national  exhaustion,  occasioned  by  recent  disaster,  pre- 
vented hira  from  openly  re-espousing  the  cause  of  James. 
The  sympathies  of  Spain  were  entirely  on  the  side  of  Jac- 
obitisra.  The  policy  of  Portugal  was  to  stand  well  with 
France.  The  Emperor,  incensed  at  the  provisions  of  the 
Peace  of  Utreclit,  kept  sullenly  aloof  from  both  parties, 
but  it  was  generally  understood  that  he  viewed  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  Elector  with  feelings  of  suspicion  and  jealousy. 
Indeed,  the  only  Powers  which  could  be  described  as  in 
any  way  attached  to  George  were  Holland  and  Prussia.  Of 
these  Holland  was  too  deeply  involved  in  financial  embar- 
rassment to  be  of  much  service,  and  Prussia  was  not  in  a 
condition  to  do  more  than  contribute  a  few  troops  for  the 
preservation  of  Hanover.  In  Scotland  the  discontent  was 
deep-seated  and  general.  In  Ireland  the  prospect  of  James's 
accession  was  hailed  with  joy.  In  England,  though  affairs 
had  by  no  means  advanced  so  far  as  the  Jacobite  agents 
represented,  there  was  ample  ground  for  hope.  Berwick 
indeed  asserts  that  of  the  body  of  the  people  five  out  of 


100  ESSAYS. 

six  were  for  James;  not,  lie  adds,  because  of  his  incontesta- 
ble rii^ht,  but  from  liatred  to  the  House  of  Hanover,  and 
to  prevent  the  total  ruin  of  the  Church  and  of  popular 
liberty.* 

These  advantages  were,  however,  of  a  negative  character ; 
the  task  before  Bolingbrokc  was  to  discover  in  what  way 
they  might  be  turned  to  the  best  account.  The  ground 
was  cleared ;  the  material  lay  ready ;  but  the  edifice  had 
yet  to  be  raised.  His  proper  course  was  easy  to  discern. 
lie  must  unite  the  scattered  forces  of  his  party  by  estab- 
lishing a  regular  communication  between  them.  Ho  must 
make  the  Jacobites,  who  lay  dispersed  through  France, 
through  England,  through  Scotland,  through  Ireland,  act 
in  unison.  When  they  rose  they  must  rise  not  in  detach- 
ments and  at  intervals,  but  simultaneously,  under  the  com- 
mand of  competent  officers.  He  must  obtain  assistance 
from  France,  for  withont  that  assistance  no  manoeuvre  could 
be  effectual.  He  must  endeavor  by  dint  of  skilful  diplo- 
macy to  secure  the  co-operation  of  Spain  and  Sweden. 

To  these  difficult  duties  he  devoted  himself  with  admi- 
rable skill  and  temper.  Never,  indeed,  were  his  eminent 
abilities  seen  to  greater  advantage.  In  a  few  weeks  he 
had  not  only  induced  Louis  to  provide  the  Jacobites  with 
ammunition,  but  he  had  kindled  in  the  breast  of  the  aged 
King  the  same  ardor  which  glowed  within  his  own,  and 
he  had  brought  him  almost  to  the  point  of  declaring  war 
with  England.  He  had  obtained  pecuniary  assistance  from 
Spain.  He  had  opened  negotiations  with  Charles  XII. 
He  had  put  himself  into  conimunication  with  the  leading 
Jacobites  in  the  three  kingdoms,  and  had  exactly  informed 
them  both  of  what  it  was  necessary  for  them  to  do,  and 
of  what  it  behooved  them  to  guard  against.  He  had  twice 
*  "  Memoirs,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  202. 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  101 

saved  James  from  taking  steps  which  must  inevitably  liavc 
ruined  him.  Affairs  which  were,  before  he  left  Dauphine, 
in  the  utmost  possible  perplexity,  now  began  to  assume  an 
aspect  so  promising  that  some  of  the  leading  members  of 
George's  Government  were  meditating  treachery,  and  the 
Chevalier  could  number  among  his  adherents  the  great 
names  of  Marlborough  and  Shrewsbury.  Measures  had, 
moreover,  been  concerted  for  seizing  Bristol,  Exeter,  and 
Plymouth.  It  would  not,  we  think,  be  going  too  far  to 
say  that,  had  Bolingbroke  been  suffered  to  continue  as  he 
commenced,  had  he  been  properly  supported  by  the  Jaco- 
bite leaders,  had  his  warnings  been  regarded,  had  his  in- 
structions been  carried  out,  had  his  supremacy  in  the  Coun- 
cil been  seconded  by  Berwick's  supremacy  in  the  field, 
the  whole  course  of  European  history  might  have  been 
changed.  The  more  closely  we  examine  the  Rebellion  of 
1715,  the  more  apparent  will  this  appear.  It  began  as  a 
desperate  enterprise  on  the  part  of  a  few  hot-headed  ad- 
venturers. It  promised,  under  the  direction  of  Boling- 
broke, to  become  the  first  act  of  a  tremendous  drama.  The 
scheme  of  operations  as  designed  by  him  was  without  a 
flaw.  He  had  provided  for  all  contingencies  except  those 
contingencies  which  no  human  foresight  can  meet.  In 
the  United  Kingdom  he  had  laid  the  foundation  of  a  co- 
alition which  would  In  all  probability  be  irresistible;  on 
the  Continent  he  was  sure  of  the  neutrality  of  those  Pow- 
ers which  could  oppose  his  designs,  and  he  had  ample  rea- 
sons for  supposing  that  those  Powers  would,  on  the  first 
appearance  of  success,  declare  in  his  favor.  But  the  levity 
and  faithlessness  of  James,  and  the  insane  folly  of  the  Jac- 
obites, were  unhappily  in  exact  proportion  to  ]iis  own 
wisdom  and  foresight.  At  the  end  of  August  he  Avas  as- 
tounded to  hear  that  Ormond,  on  whom  everything  do- 


102  ESSAYS. 

pciidcd  ill  England,  and  who  liad  in  a  recent  despatcli 
promised  to  hold  out,  liad  deserted  his  post  and  was  in 
Paris.  The  llight  of  Onnond  was  shortly  afterwards  suc- 
ceeded by  the  death  of  Louis  XIV.  "  He  was,"  said  Bol- 
ingbrokc,  "  the  best  friend  the  Chevalier  ever  had,  and 
when  I  engaged  in  this  business  my  principal  dependence 
was  on  his  personal  character,  my  hopes  sunk  when  lie  de- 
clined, and  died  when  he  expired." 

These  events  were,  indeed,  a  severe  blow.  For  the 
flight  of  Ormond  augured  ill  for  the  prospects  of  the  Jac- 
obites in  England,  and  the  death  of  Louis  augured  ill  for 
their  prospects  in  France.  Still  he  did  not  despair.  The 
next  three  weeks  were  spent  in  receiving  and  in  answering 
despatches  from  England  and  Scotland,  and  in  sounding 
the  new  French  Government.  The  Regent  was  courteous 
and  sympathetic,  but  Bolingbroke  was  not  long  in  discern- 
ing that  the  interests  of  that  wily  prince  were  by  no 
means  compatible  with  running  any  risks  for  the  Jaco- 
bites. The  state  of  France  was  indeed  such  as  to  preclude 
all  hopes  of  assistance,  Louis  had  left  his  kingdom  in  a 
deplorable  condition.  Her  provinces  were  desolated  by 
famine.  Her  finances  were  hopelessly  involved;  her  cap- 
ital was  torn  by  faction.  The  only  thing  which  could 
enable  her  to  recover  liersclf  was  peace,  and  the  mainte- 
nance of  peace  was  therefore  the  Regent's  first  considera- 
tion. There  was  also  another  question  which  entered  large- 
ly into  his  calculations.  The  rickety  and  sickly  child  whose 
place  he  filled  was  scarcely  likely  to  survive  infancy.  Philip 
of  Spain,  who  was,  in  order  of  succession,  next  heir  to  the 
throne  of  France,  had  by  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht  solemnly 
renounced  all  claims  to  it.  The  Regent,  therefore,  was 
heir-presumptive.  But  Philip  had  recently  announced  that 
he  had  no  intention  of  abiding  by  his  former  decision. 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  103 

and  that  the  renunciations  he  made  at  Utrcclit  were,  as 
the  hiwyers  had  at  the  time  justly  asserted,  invalid.  His 
claim  was  good,  and  it  was  his  intention,  should  occasion 
offer,  to  assert  it.  This  claim  Orleans  very  naturally  de- 
termined to  resist,  and  was  anxious  to  form  such  alliances 
as  might  enable  liim  to  make  this  resistance  effectual.  He 
shrank,  therefore,  from  compromising  himself  with  the  Eng- 
lish Government  by  assisting  the  Jacobites,  and  from  com- 
promising himself  with  the  Jacobites  by  assisting  the  Eng- 
lish Government,  for  either  party  might  serve  his  turn. 
Ilis  policy  was  to  leave  the  two  parties  to  settle  the 
question  of  supremacy  between  them,  and  to  maintain  a  po- 
sition of  strict  neutrality  until  that  question  should  be  de- 
cided. It  was  a  matter  of  little  importance  to  him  wheth- 
er George  or  James  sat  on  the  throne  of  England,  bnt  it 
was  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  him  that  the  king 
who  filled  that  throne  should,  in  the  event  of  young  Louis's 
death,  consent  to  guarantee  the  succession  of  the  House 
of  Orleans.  Such  was,  we  believe,  the  real  policy  of  the 
Itegent  at  this  conjuncture.  He  was  certainly  in  commu- 
nication with  Ormond  and  Bolingbroke;  he  was  certainly 
in  communication  with  Stair  and  Stanhope. 

And  now  everything  began  to  go  wrong.  The  Jacobites 
were  apparently  bent  on  nothing  but  self-destruction.  The 
chief  objects  of  their  leaders  appeared  to  be  to  outbid  each 
other  in  folly,  and  to  defeat  the  efforts  of  the  two  men 
who  might  have  saved  them.  The  only  coadjutors  in 
whom  James  had  any  confidence  were  those  who  were  be- 
traying him  to  Stair.  The  only  counsellors  who  liad  any 
weight  with  Ormond  were  two  harlots  and  a  hare-brained 
priest.  Bolingbroke  and  Berwick  had  scarcely  a  voice  in 
the  conduct  of  affairs.  If  they  were  consulted,  they  were 
consulted  only  to  be  laughed  at;  if  they  issued  instruo- 


104  ESSAYS. 

tions,  their  instructions  were  cither  countermanded  or  set 
at  naught. 

This  was  bad,  but  this  was  not  all.  To  men  situated  as 
the  Jacobites  then  were,  nothing  was  more  indispensable 
than  secrecy ;  but  their  secrets  were,  as  Boliugbroke  bitter- 
ly observed,  the  property  of  everybody  wlio  kept  his  ears 
open.  "  For  no  sex,"  he  adds,  "  was  excluded  from  our 
ministry.  Fanny  Oglethorpe  kept  her  corner  in  it,  and 
Olive  Trant  was  the  great  wheel  of  our  machine."  In  con- 
sequence of  this  indiscreet  loquacity,  it  was  soon  known 
that  a  small  armament,  assembled  at  Havre,  had  been  as- 
sembled for  the  purpose  of  assisting  the  Chevalier.  Stair 
demanded,  therefore,  that  it  should  be  surrendered  to  the 
English  Government.  To  this  request,  however,  the  Re- 
gent refused  to  accede,  but  a  compromise  was  accepted, 
and  the  flotilla  was  disarmed  and  broken  up.  Having  thus 
succeeded  in  ruining  themselves  by  sea,  the  Jacobites  lost 
no  time  in  ruining  themselves  by  land.  In  the  middle  of 
September,  Bolingbrokc  addressed  a  despatch  to  Mar,  who 
had  undertaken  the  management  of  afl^airs  in  Scotland, 
pointing  out  to  him  that  it  would  be  worse  than  useless 
to  raise  the  Highlands  without  support  from  France,  and 
without  providing  for  a  simultaneous  movement  on  the 
part  of  the  Jacobites  in  England.  But  Mar  had  already 
assembled  the  clans  before  Bolingbroke's  despatch  arrived. 
It  appears,  indeed,  that  James  had  had  the  inconceivable 
folly  to  issue,  on  his  own  responsibility,  and  without 
consulting  either  Bolingbrokc  or  Berwick,  previous  instruc- 
tions ordering  Mar  to  take  this  insane  step.  All  that  en- 
sued was  of  a  piece  with  all  that  preceded.  Blunder  fol- 
lowed on  blunder,  disaster  on  disaster,  in  rapid  succession. 
Ormond  sailed  for  Devonshire  to  find,  instead  of  loyal 
multitudes  rallying  round  his  standard,  a  solitary  coast,  a 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IX  EXILE.  105 

cliurlisli  fellow  who  refused  lilm  a  night's  lodging,  most 
of  the  leading  Jacobites  in  custody,  and  warrants  out  for 
the  arrest  of  Jersey  and  Wyndhara.  The  Chevalier,  not 
to  be  outdone  in  folly,  dallied  at  St.  Malo,  debating  about 
what  was  the  best  thing  to  do  till  it  was  too  late  to  do 
anything  but  despair,  and  then  hurried  off  to  head  a  for- 
lorn hope  in  Scotland. 

In  a  few  months  all  was  over.  A  traged}',  the  particu- 
lars of  which  it  is  difficult,  even  at  this  distance  of  time, 
to  peruse  without  tears,  had  been  enacted.  A  large  multi- 
tude of  brave  and  generous  enthusiasts  had,  in  obedience 
to  a  noble  impulse,  and  after  making  heroic  self-sacrifices, 
rushed  to  destruction.  Everything  that  could  be  effected 
by  a  spirit  which  rose  superior  to  privation  and  reverses, 
by  fidelity  strong  even  to  martyrdom,  and  by  a  fortitude 
which  death  could  subdue  only  by  extinguishing,  these 
gallant  men  had  done.  For  a  cause  which  was  in  their 
eyes  the  cause  of  Justice,  they  had  sacrificed  their  fortunes ; 
for  one  who  was  to  them  merely  the  representative  of  a 
righteous  claim,  they  had  poured  out  their  blood.  What- 
ever may  have  been  the  motives  which  guided  their  lead- 
ers in  France,  the  motives  of  these  unhappy  men  had  at 
least  been  pure  and  honorable.  But  terrible,  indeed,  had 
been  their  fate.  Many  who  had  not  had  the  good-fortune 
to  find  a  grave  in  the  field,  had  been  condemned  to  die  the 
death  of  felons.  Two  chiefs,  distinguished  by  rank  and 
opulence,  and  still  more  honorably  distinguished  by  the 
virtues  of  heroism,  had  been  led  to  the  scaffold,  their  blood 
attainted,  their  property  confiscated.  The  hopes  of  the 
Jacobites  had  been  blighted;  their  power  had  been  de- 
stroyed; their  very  names  had  become  a  byword. 

One  thing,  and  one  thing  only,  was  now  wanting  to  make 
James  and  his  counsellors  completely  contemptible.     If 

5* 


IOC.  ESSAYS. 

their  party  contained  a  man  whose  sagacity  and  good  sense 
had,  during  the  genenil  frenzy,  been  above  imputation,  and 
whose  services  liad  entitled  him  to  the  respect  and  grati- 
tude of  the  Jacobites,  tliat  man  was  Bolingbroke.  Of  all 
James's  servants,  he  had  been  the  most  able  and  the  most 
zealous,  lie  had  furnished  the  Jacobites  with  a  plan  of 
operations  which  nothing  but  their  own  temerity  and 
wronghcadcdness  could  have  defeated.  lie  had  amply 
forewarned  them  of  their  errors ;  and  when  they  liad  set 
his  warnings  at  defiance,  he  had  toiled  with  almost  super- 
liuman  energy  to  extricate  them  from  the  consequences  of 
those  errors.  Wlien  the  prospects  of  Jacobitism  were 
blackest,  when  everything  was  lost  in  England,  and  when 
everything  was  on  the  point  of  being  lost  in  Scotland,  he 
had  not  despaired,  lie  had  renewed  his  applications  to 
Spain  and  Sweden ;  lie  had  been  at  great  pains  to  procure 
and  ship  off  ammunition  and  soldiers.  He  had  submitted 
to  every  indignity  to  gain  access  to  the  Regent,  and,  in 
Berwick's  emphatic  phrase,  "  he  had  moved  heaven  and 
earth  "  to  obtain  assistance  from  the  French  Court.*  His 
official  duties  he  had  performed  with  punctilious  exactness, 
and  from  the  day  on  which  he  took  up  the  Seals  at  Com- 
mcrcy  to  the  day  on  which  he  was  ordered  to  resign  them, 
he  had  done  nothing  inconsistent  with  the  character  of  a 
wise  and  honest  Minister.  All  this  weighed,  however,  very 
little  with  men  who  saw  that  they  might,  with  a  little  man- 
agement, make  him  the  scape-goat  of  their  own  follies. 
With  the  Jacobite  clique  in  the  Bois  do  Boulogne  he  had 
never  been  popular.  From  the  Jacobite  rabble  he  had  al- 
ways stood  contemptuously  aloof.     Scandalous  stories  were 

*  Berwick  gives  eloquent  and  indignant  testimony  to  the  services 
of  Bolingbroke  and  to  tlie  folly  and  ingratitude  of  James. — Memoirs^ 
vol.  ii.,  pp.  253-25'ir. 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  107 

therefore  without  difficulty  vamped  up  against  him  and 
industriously  circulated.  He  was  charged,  among  other 
things,  with  having  at  a  supper-party  spoken  disrespect- 
fully of  James,  which  was  possibly  true ;  with  having 
lavished  on  his  mistress  money  which  had  been  intrusted 
to  him  for  State  purposes,  which  was  certainly  false ;  with 
having  neglected  his  duties,  which  carried  with  it  its  own 
refutation.  Mar  and  Ormond,  with  scandalous  indifference 
to  truth,  attributed  to  his  incapacity  and  negligence  the 
misfortunes  in  Scotland,  and  the  fact  that  no  assistance 
had  been  obtained  from  France.  The  Chevalier,  glad  to 
find  an  opportunity  of  imputing  to  his  Minister  the  ca- 
lamities for  which  he  had  himself  been  mainly  responsible, 
caught  eagerly  at  these  calumnies.  At  the  end  of  January, 
therefore,  Bolingbroke  suddenly  received  his  dismissal,  the 
dismissal  being  accompanied  with  gross  insult,  and  suc- 
ceeded by  a  storm  of  obloquy.  So  terminated  his  unfort- 
unate connection  with  the  Jacobites. 

We  have  thought  it  desirable  to  enter  at  some  length 
into  this  episode  in  his  career,  first  because  of  the  influence 
it  subsequently  exercised  both  on  his  conduct  and  on  his 
opinions,  and  secondly  because  it  has,  we  think,  been  very 
generally  misunderstood.  Few  parts  of  his  public  life  have 
been  so  malignantly  assailed,  and  no  part  of  his  public  life 
was,  we  are  convinced,  more  creditable  to  him.  He  served 
James  as  he  had  never  before  served  Anne,  and  as  he  never 
afterwards  served  any  master.  At  no  period  was  his  polit- 
ical genius  seen  to  greater  {tdvantage,  at  no  period  were 
his  characteristic  defects  under  better  control.  During 
these  few  months  he  exhibited,  indeed,  some  of  the  highest 
qualities  of  an  administrator  and  a  diplomatist,  and  if  ho 
failed,  he  failed  under  circumstances  which  would  have 
rendered  Richelieu  powerless,  and  have  baffled  the  skill  of 


108  ESSAYS. 

Theramencs  or  Talleyrand.  Tlic  motives  which  originally 
induced  him  to  join  the  Jacobites  were,  as  we  have  already 
sliown,  anything'  but  laudable,  but  an  estimate  of  the  mo- 
tives which  induced  him  to  join  the  Chevalier,  and  an  esti- 
mate of  his  conduct  as  the  Chevalier's  Minister,  ought  by 
no  means  to  be  confounded.  What  he  did  he  did  well, 
though  it  should  never  have  been  done  at  all. 

The  news  of  his  disgrace  was  received  with  much  satis- 
faction by  the  English  Cabinet.  The  character  of  Boling- 
broke  was  too  well  known  to  admit  of  any  doubt  as  to  the 
course  he  would  take.  All  who  knew  him  knew  that  his 
recent  allies  had  transformed  the  most  formidable  of  their 
coadjutors  into  the  most  formidable  of  their  enemies;  and 
he  would,  it  was  expected,  run  into  all  lengths  that  revenge 
and  interest  might  hurry  him.  The  Jacobites  had,  indeed, 
suffered  too  severely  in  the  recent  struggle  to  make  it  prob- 
able that  they  were  in  a  position  to  renew  hostilities,  but 
their  real  strength  was  still  unknown, their  numbers  were 
still  uncertain,  their  movements  were  full  of  mystery.  If 
Bolingbroke  would  consent  to  throw  light  on  these  points 
— and  no  man  was  more  competent  to  do  so — he  would 
relieve  the  Ministry  from  much  embarrassment.  If  he 
could  be  induced  to  open  the  minds  of  the  Tories  to  the 
real  character  of  James,  he  would  do  much  to  restore  pub- 
lic tranquillity.  It  was  resolved,  therefore,  to  see  what 
could  be  done  with  him,  ancj  instructions  were  forwarded 
to  Stair  to  solicit  an  interview.  The  two  statesmen  met 
at  the  Embassy.  Bolingbroke  behaved  exactly  as  Stair 
anticipated.  He  longed,  he  said,  to  get  back  to  England. 
Ills  sole  anxiety  was  to  be  enabled  to  serve  his  country 
and  his  sovereign  with  zeal  and  affection.  He  would  do 
everything  that  was  required  of  him.  He  would  show  the 
Tories  what  manner  of  man  the  Pretender  was,  and  how 


LORD  BOLIXGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  109 

grossly  they  had  been  deceived  in  him.  lie  could  not,  as 
a  man  of  honor,  either  betray  individuals  or  divulge  private 
secrets,  but  he  would  throw  all  the  light  he  could  on  the 
movements  and  on  the  designs  of  the  Jacobites.  "  Time 
and  ray  uniform  conduct  will,"  he  added  in  conclusion, 
"  convince  the  world  of  the  uprightness  of  my  intentions, 
and  it  is  better  to  wait  for  this  result,  however  long,  than 
to  arrive  hastily  at  one's  goal  by  leaving  the  highway  of 
honor  and  honesty."  To  all  this  Stair  listened  with  sym- 
pathy and  respect.  His  instructions  had,  however,  gone 
no  further  than  to  hold  out  "  suitable  hopes  and  encour- 
agement," and  suitable  hopes  and  encouragement  were  all 
that  Bolingbroke  could  obtain  from  him.  Bolingbroke 
left  the  J]mbassy,  little  thinking  that  seven  years  were  to 
elapse  before  those  hopes  were  even  partially  to  be  realized. 
Those  seven  years  were  perhaps  the  happiest  years  of 
his  life.  lie  was,  it  is  true,  pursued  by  the  unrelenting 
malevolence  of  the  Jacobites,  and  he  was  kept  in  a  state 
of  uneasy  expectation  by  Stanhope  and  Sunderland,  who 
would  neither  definitely  refuse  nor  definitely  promise  a  par- 
don. But,  for  the  rest,  his  life  was  without  a  shadow,  and 
lie  had  in  truth  little  occasion  for  the  exercise  of  that  stoi- 
cism which  he  now  began  with  so  much  ostentation  to 
profess.  He  was  in  the  prime  of  manhood.  His  excesses 
had  not  as  yet  begun  to  tell  upon  his  fine  constitution.  A 
fortunate  speculation  had  secured  him  a  competence.  A 
fortunate  connection  was  soon  to  win  him  from  grosser  in- 
dulgences to  more  refined  enjoyments.  He  was  the  centre 
of  a  society  which  numbered  among  its  members  some  of 
the  most  accomplished  men  and  women  of  those  times. 
In  the  salons  of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain  he  was  a  wel- 
come guest.  In  the  Societe  d'Entresol  he  had  a  distin- 
guished place,     lie  was  enabled  to  gratify  to  the  full,  first 


110  ESSAYS. 

at  Marcilly  and  subsequently  at  La  Source,  the  two  pas- 
sions which  were,  he  said,  the  dominant  passions  of  his  life 
— the  love  of  study  and  the  love  of  rural  pursuits.  Ambi- 
tion had  still  its  old  fascination  for  him,  but  the  nature  of 
that  ambition  had  undergone  a  complete  change.  Up  to 
this  time  he  had  been  the  leader  of  a  party  ;  he  now  aspired 
to  be  a  leader  of  mankind.  Up  to  this  time  the  prize  for 
which  he  had  been  contending  had  been  popularity ;  the 
arena  on  which  he  had  fought,  an  arena  crowded  with  ig- 
noble competitors.  He  now  aspired  to  enter  that  greater 
arena  where,  in  a  spirit  of  more  honorable  rivalry,  nobler 
candidates  contend  for  nobler  prizes. 

At  the  beginning  of  this  period  he  produced,  within  a 
few  months  of  each  other,  a  work  of  which  the  best  that 
can  be  said  of  it  is  that  it  would  not  disgrace  a  University 
prizeman,  and  a  work  which  has  by  many  of  his  critics 
been  pronounced  to  be  his  masterpiece — the  "  Reflections 
on  Exile,"  and  the  "Letter  to  Sir  William  Wyndham." 
The  "Reflections  on  Exile"  is  in  truth  little  more  than  a 
loose  paraphrase  of  Seneca's  "  Consolatio  ad  Ilclviam,"  gar- 
nished with  illustrative  matter  from  Cicero  and  Plutarch, 
and  enlivened  with  a  few  anecdotes  derived  principally 
from  the  Roman  historians  and  from  Diogenes  Laertius. 
It  reproduces  in  a  diffuse  and  grandiloquent  style  those 
silly  paradoxes  by  which  the  followers  of  Zeno  affected  to 
rob  misfortune  of  its  terrors.  As  exile  has  been  the  lot 
of  some  of  the  most  exalted  characters  of  antiquity,  exile 
involves  no  dishonor,  and  dishonor  is  all  that  a  good  man 
has  to  fear.  To  a  philosopher  exile  is  impossible,  for  a 
philosopher  is  a  citizen  of  the  world,  and  how  can  a  man 
be  banished  from  his  country  when  his  country  is  the  uni- 
verse? If  exile  is  a  misfortune,  exile  is  a  blessing,  for 
without  misfortune  there  can  be  no  virtue,  and  without 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  Ill 

virtue  there  can  be  no  enjoyment.  These  sentiments, 
which  would  have  been  ridiculous  iu  the  mouth  of  Cato 
or  Brutus,  become  doubly  ridiculous  when  proceeding  from 
a  man  like  Bolingbroke,  and  their  inconsistency  is  the  more 
grotesque  when  we  remember  that  at  the  time  this  Essay 
was  written  the  profligacy  of  liis  private  life,  though  on 
the  eve  of  reformation,  had  reached  its  climax,  and  that  lie 
was,  in  liis  letters  and  conversation,  expressing  the  greatest 
impatience  to  return  to  England. 

In  striking  contrast  to  this  absurd  and  puerile  declama- 
tion stands  the  Letter  to  Wyndham,  which  must  not  be 
confounded — and  we  are  surprised  to  see  that  so  well-in- 
formed a  writer  as  M.  Charles  de  Remusat  does  confound 
it — with  the  shorter  "Letter  to  Wyndham,"  dated  Sep- 
tember 13,  17X6,  and  preserved  among  the  "Townshend 
Papers."  The  immediate  cause  of  the  composition  of  this 
celebrated  work  was  the  appearance  of  a  pamphlet,  entitled 
"A  Letter  from  Avignon,"  a  publication  in  which  the  Jac- 
obites had  at  great  length  enumerated  the  crimes  and  blun- 
ders of  whicli  they  accused  Bolingbroke.  Incensed  at  this 
libel,  which  he  afterwards  described  as  a  medley  of  false 
fact,  false  argument,  false  English,  and  false  eloquence,  he 
determined  not  only  to  refute  once  and  forever  the  calum- 
nies of  his  contemptible  assailants,  but  to  do  everything  in 
his  power  to  sow  dissensions  between  the  Tories  and  the 
Jacobites,  and  to  furnish  posterity  with  an  elaborate  vin- 
dication of  his  conduct  and  policy,  from  his  accession  to 
office  in  1710  to  his  dismissal  from  the  Pretender's  service 
in  1716.  Of  the  historical  value  of  this  work  we  have  al- 
ready spoken.  Of  its  literary  value  it  would  be  impossible 
to  speak  too  higlily.  As  a  composition  it  is  almost  fault- 
less. It  exhibits  in  perfection  that  style  of  which  Boling- 
broke is  our  greatest  master — a  style  in  which  the  graces 


112  ESSAYS. 

of  colloquy  and  the  graces  of  rhetoric  harmoniously  blend 
— a  style  which  approaches  more  nearly  to  that  of  the  finest 
disquisitions  of  Cicero  than  any  other  style  in  the  world. 
Walpole  never  produced  a  more  amusing  sketch  than  the 
picture  of  the  Pretender's  Court  at  Paris  and  of  the  Privy 
Council  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  Burke  never  produced 
anything  nobler  than  the  passage  which  commences  with 
the  words — "The  ocean  which  surrounds  us  is  an  emblem 
of  our  government."  The  account  of  the  state  of  affairs 
during  the  last  years  of  Anne,  at  the  accession  of  George 
I.,  and  during  the  course  of  the  Rebellion,  are  models  of 
graceful  and  luminous  narrative,  and  we  shall  have  to  go 
to  Clarendon  or  Tacitus  to  find  anything  superior  to  the 
portraits  of  Oxford  and  of  James, 

Its  serious  reflections,  its  strokes  of  humor,  its  sarcasm, 
its  invective  are  equally  admirable.  It  is  singular  that 
though  this  Letter  was,  as  we  have  seen,  written  with  the 
immediate  object  of  crushing  the  Jacobites,  it  was  never 
published,  perhaps  never  even  printed,  until  after  Boling- 
broke's  death.  Of  this  curious  circumstance  no  satisfac- 
tory explanation  has  been  given.  Mr.  Macknight's  theory 
is  that  Bolingbroke  withheld  its  publication  in  consequence 
of  the  suspension  of  his  pardon,  and  afterwards  forgot  it. 
This  is  not,  wc  think,  very  probable.  Our  own  opinion  is 
that  when  busy  with  the  work  he  altered  his  mind,  and, 
attaching  more  importance  to  it  as  a  vindication  of  his 
conduct  in  the  eyes  of  posterity  than  as  a  contribution  to 
ephemeral  polemics,  resolved  to  keep  it  by  him  until  death 
had  removed  those  who  might  challenge  his  assertions  and 
shake  his  credit.  The  Letter  abounds  in  statements  which 
rest  on  no  authority  but  that  of  the  writer — statements 
which  may  be  false  or  which  may  be  true,  but  which,  true 
or  false,  would  not  have  passed  unquestioned  by  contem- 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IX  EXILE.  113 

poraries.  It  bears,  moreover,  all  the  marks  of  careful  re- 
vision. No  work  of  Bolingbrokc  is  more  liiglily  finished. 
Bolingbroke  was  now  in  liis  tliirty-ninth  year.  Since 
his  residence  in  France  his  relations  with  the  other  sex  had 
either  been  those  of  a  libertine  or  a  trifler.  Sensual  pleas- 
ures were  beginning  to  pall  upon  him.  Platonic  gallant- 
ries were  becoming  wearisome.  His  wife  was  in  England, 
and  his  wife  he  regarded  with  contempt.  But  in  the 
spring  of  l7lY  he  met  a  woman  who  inspired  him  with  a 
passion  very  different  from  anything  which  he  had  experi- 
enced before.  Marie  -  Claire  Deschamps  de  Marcilly  was 
the  widow  of  the  Marquis  de  Villette,  and  the  niece  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon.  As  a  school-girl  at  Saint-Cyr,  she 
had  attracted  the  attention  of  Louis  XIV.,  by  the  skill 
with  which  she  had  supported  the  character  of  Zares,  when, 
under  the  auspices  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  Racine's 
"Esther"  was  acted  by  the  scholars  of  that  famous  semi- 
nary. She  was  now  upward  of  forty,  and  her  beauty  had 
lost  its  bloom.  But  her  grace,  her  vivacity,  her  accom- 
plishments, made  her  the  delight  of  the  polished  circles  in 
which  she  moved.  Her  wit  has  been  celebrated  by  Wal- 
pole,  and  her  conversation  was,  even  among  the  coteries 
of  Versailles,  noted  for  its  brilliancy.  In  the  majority  of 
women  such  qualities  are  perhaps  more  calculated  to  strikp 
than  to  charm,  to  impress  the  mind  than  to  touch  the 
heart;  but  in  the  Marquise  de  Villette  they  were  tempered 
with  the  feminine  charms  of  amiability  and  good  taste. 
Bolingbroke  was  soon  at  her  feet.  His  mistress  was  not 
obdurate,  and  the  two  lovers  appear  to  have  divided  their 
time  between  the  Rue  Saint-Dominique,  Faubourg  Saint- 
Gcniain,  where  the  marquise  had  a  town  residence,  and 
Maroilly  in  Champagne,  where  she  possessed  a  fine  chateau. 
The  death  of  Lady  Bolingbroke  in  November,  1718,  re- 


114  ESSAYS. 

moved  the  only  iinpcdimcnt  to  their  marriage,  but  the 
ceremony  was  deferred  till  1720,  wlien  they  were  in  all 
probability  married  at  Aix-la-Cliapelle.  A  little  before 
this  event  occurred,  IJolingbroke  was  relieved  by  a  great 
piece  of  good-luck  from  the  disagreeable  necessity  of  being 
dependent  on  his  wife's  fortune.  He  had  been  induced  to 
take  some  shares  in  Law's  Mississippi  stocks  when  the 
shares  were  low,  and  those  shares  he  had  sold  out  in  time 
to  realize  large  profits.  lie  afterwards  observed  that  if  he 
could  have  condescended  to  flatter  Law  for  half  an  hour  a 
week,  or  to  have  troubled  himself  for  two  minutes  a  day 
about  money  markets,  he  might  have  gained  an  immense 
fortune;  but  such  transactions  were,  in  his  opinion,  little 
worthy  either  of  a  philosopher  or  of  a  gentleman. 

At  the  beginning  of  1720  he  removed  with  liis  wife 
to  that  romantic  and  picturesque  spot  which  is  still  as- 
sociated with  his  name.  La  Source,  near  Orleans.  Here 
he  amused  himself  with  laying  out  his  grounds,  with  scrib- 
bling Latin  inscriptions  for  his  summer-houses,  and  with 
trying  to  persuade  his  friends  and  himself  that  the  world 
and  the  world's  affairs  were  beneath  his  notice.  In  his 
Letters  to  Swift  lie  affects  the  character  of  an  elegant 
trifler,  indulges  with  absurd  affectation  in  the  cant  of 
the  Porch  and  the  Garden,  and  writes  in  a  style  in  which 
the  best  vein  of  Horace  and  the  worst  vein  of  Seneca 
are  curiously  intermingled.  Such  was  Bolingbroke  as  he 
chose  to  describe  himself  to  his  acquaintances  in  Eng- 
land, but  sucli  was  not  the  Bolingbroke  of  La  Source. 
Ilis  habits  were,  in  truth,  those  of  a  severe  student.  He 
rose  early,  he  read  hard.  His  intimate  companions  were 
men  of  science  and  letters,  and  the  time  that  was  not  spent 
in  study  was  spent  for  the  most  part  in  literary  and  philo- 
sophical discussion.     Since  his  retirement  from  Paris  he 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  115 

had  been  engaged  on  works  which  could  have  left  liim  lit- 
tle leisure  for  idling.  We  find  him  busy  with  antiquities, 
with  patristic  and  classical  literature,  with  researches  into 
the  credibility  of  ancient  annals,  and  with  a  comparative 
criticism  of  the  various  systems  of  chronology.  We  learn, 
moreover,  from  his  correspondence,  that  he  had,  in  addi- 
tion to  all  this,  struck  out  some  new  theory  about  history, 
and  that  he  was  meditating  an  account  of  Rome  and  Eng- 
land to  be  written  in  accordance  with  that  theory.  Since 
his  residence  at  La  Source  his  undertakings  had  been  still 
more  ambitious.  By  the  end  of  1722  he  had  probably 
produced — for  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  settle  the  ex- 
act date  of  his  earlier  works — the  Letters  to  Pouilly,  of 
which  he  subsequently  published  an  interesting  abstract;  a 
"Treatise  on  the  Limits  of  Human  Knowledge,"  of  which 
he  speaks  in  a  letter  to  Alari,  and  which  is  perhaps  sub- 
stantially identical  with  the  first  of  the  Four  Essays  ad- 
dressed to  Pope ;  the  "  Letter  occasioned  by  one  of  Arcli- 
bishop  Tillotson's  Sermons;"  and  the  "Reflections  on 
Innate  Moral  Principles."  In  a  word,  he  had,  before  ho 
quitted  La  Source,  formulated  the  most  important  of  those 
historical  and  philosophical  theories  which  were  afterwards 
developed  in  works  given  to  the  world.  He  had  forged 
the  weapons  which,  variously  tempered,  were  in  a  few  years 
to  be  wielded  with  such  tremendous  effect  by  his  disci- 
ples. This  is  a  circumstance  which,  in  estimating  his  in- 
fluence on  contemporaries,  and  pre-eminently  on  Voltaire, 
it  is  very  necessary  to  bear  in  mind.  But  it  is  a  circum- 
stance which  has,  we  believe,  escaped  the  notice  of  all  his 
biographers  and  critics.  The  consequence  has  been  that 
they  have  fallen  into  error  of  a  fourfold  kind.  They  have 
represented  Bolingbroke  as  following,  where  in  reality  he 
was  leading.     They  have  attributed  to  his  disciples  what 


lir.  ESSAYS. 

undoubtedly  belongs  to  him;  they  have  confounded  his 
theories  with  the  theories  of  the  English  Freethinkers,  and 
they  have  supposed  that  tlie  movement  of  whicli  he  was 
the  central  figure  in  France  was  identical  with  the  move- 
ment of  whicli  Toland  and  Tyndal  were  the  central  figures 
in  P^ngland.  Nothing  is,  it  is  true,  more  natural  than  to 
estimate  the  influence  of  an  author  upon  his  age  by  the 
influence  of  his  published  writings,  and  yet  in  Boling- 
broke's  case  nothing  would  be  more  misguiding.  The  era 
inaugurated  by  him  in  the  history  of  political  opinion 
dates,  indeed,  from  the  appearance  of  his  papers  in  the 
Craftsman ;  but  the  era  he  inaugurated  in  a  far  more  im- 
portant revolution  dates  from  a  period  long  antecedent  to 
the  publication  of  a  single  treatise  by  him.  l.iis  era  was 
marked,  not  by  what  he  printed,  but  by  what  he  spoke ; 
not  by  what  he  dictated  to  an  amanuensis,  but  what  he 
dictated  in  familiar  intercourse  to  his  friends.  Many  years 
before  his  appearance  as  an  author,  his  work  as  an  initia- 
tor had  been  done.  Many  years  before  he  appealed  him- 
self to  the  public  mind,  he  had  appealed  to  those  by  whom 
the  public  mind  is  moved.  While  the  circulation  of  his 
writings  was  confined  to  private  cliques,  the  substance  of 
his  writings  had  been  interpreted  to  Europe  \  i  prose  as 
matchless  as  his  own,  and  in  verse  more  brilliant  than  that 
in  which  Lucretius  clothed  the  doctrines  of  Epicurus ;  for 
his  first  disciple  was  Voltaire,  and  his  second  disciple  was 
Pope. 

We  believe,  then,  that  when  young  Frangois  Arouet  ar- 
rived, in  the  winter  of  1721,  as  a  visitor  at  La  Source,  Bol- 
ingbroke  had  made  considerable  progress  in  the  First 
Philosophy,  had  formulated  his  creed,  and  was  perhaps  not 
unwilling  to  provide  the  new  creed  with  neophytes.  Vol- 
taire— to  call  him  by  the  name  he  afterwards  assumed — 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  117 

was  in  raptures  with  his  host.  Ho  found  him  almost  om- 
niscient :  "  J'ai  trouve  dans  cet  iUustre  Anglais,"  he  is  writ- 
ing to  his  friend  Theriot,  "  toute  Terudition  de  son  pays  ct 
toute  la  politesse  du  notre.  Cet  homme,  qui  a  passe  toute 
sa  vie  dans  les  plaisirs  et  dans  les  affaires,  a  trouve  pourtant 
le  mo)-en  de  tout  apprendre  ct  dc  tout  retenir.  II  sait  This- 
toiro  dcs  anciens  Egyptiens  comme  celle  d'Angleterro ;  il 
possede  Yirgile  comme  Milton  ;  il  aimc  la  poesie  Anglaise, 
la  Fran^aise  et  ritalicnnc."  The  young  poet  was  at  that 
time  busy  with  his  epic  poem,  which  Bolingbroko  pro- 
nounced to  be  superior  to  anything  which  had  yet  ap- 
peared in  French  poetry.  Their  conversation  soon  turned, 
however,  on  more  serious  topics  than  the  virtues  of  Henri 
Quatre ;  and  Voltaire,  who  entered  La  Source  meditating 
the  "Ilenriade,"  quitted  it  meditating  "  Le  Pour  ct  le  Con- 
tre."  IIow  long  he  remained  under  Bolingbroke's  roof 
it  is  now  impossible  to  say,  but  he  evidently  remained  long 
enough  to  become  impregnated  with  his  ideas.  The  in- 
timacy thus  commenced  in  France  was  afterwards  renewed 
in  England,  where  for  upwards  of  two  years  the  friends 
lived  within  a  few  miles  of  each  other. 

The  nature  and  extent  of  Bolingbroke's  influence  on 
Voltaire  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  questions  in  the  lit- 
erary history  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  it  is  a  ques- 
tion which  has  never,  in  our  opinion,  received  half  the  at- 
tention it  deserves.  English  biographers  have,  as  a  rule, 
ignored  it ;  French  critics  have  contented  themselves  with 
making  a  few  general  observations,  in  which  a  very  lauda- 
ble desire  to  do  justice  to  Bolingbrokc  struggles  with  a 
very  natural  desire  to  do  honor  to  Voltaire.  Now  Voltaire 
himself  never  made  any  secret  of  his  obligations  to  Bol- 
ingbrokc. When  the  two  friends  first  met  at  La  Source, 
Bolingbrokc  discussed,  he  listened.     To  the  end  of  his  life 


118  ESSAYS. 

lie  regarded  him  as  his  master.  To  the  end  of  his  life  he 
continued  to  speak  of  him  with  mingled  feelings  of  rever- 
ence and  affection.  When  the  two  friends  first  met,  Bol- 
ingbroke  was  just  at  that  age  when  the  individuality  of 
men  is  most  pronounced;  Voltaire  was  just  at  that  age 
when  the  mind  is  most  susceptible  and  most  tenacious 
of  new  impressions.  The  one  was  aspiring  to  open  out 
fresh  worlds  of  thought,  to  initiate  a  fresh  era  in  the  his- 
tory of  inquiry ;  the  other  had,  up  to  that  time,  aspired 
to  nothing  higher  than  to  polish  verses  and  to  point  epi- 
grams. Bolingbrokc  assumed,  therefore,  naturally  enough, 
the  authority  of  a  teacher;  Voltaire  accepted,  naturally 
enough,  the  position  of  a  disciple.  When  they  met  in 
England  they  met  on  a  similar  footing:  the  one  eager  to 
impart,  the  other  eager  to  acquire  ;  the  one  covering  reams 
of  manuscript  with  his  thoughts,  the  other  storing  his 
7iicmory  with  recollections.  In  conversation  Bolingbrokc 
delighted  in  long  monologues,  the  diction  of  which  was, 
we  are  told,  as  perfect  as  that  of  his  printed  dissertations. 
"  He  possessed,"  says  Chesterfield,  "  such  a  flowing  happi- 
ness of  expression  that  even  his  most  familiar  conversa- 
tions, if  taken  down  in  writing,  would  have  borne  the  press 
without  the  least  correction  either  as  to  method  or  style." 
In  these  monologues  he  dealt  at  length  with  the  topics 
which  form  the  substance  of  his  philosophical  works.  In- 
deed, it  was  notorious  among  those  who  knew  him  well, 
that  there  was  scarcely  a  theory,  an  opinion,  or  even  an 
idea,  in  his  posthumous  writings  which  had  not  been  re- 
peatedly anticipated  by  him  in  conversation.  To  these  con- 
versations Voltaire  sat  for  two  years  a  delighted  listener. 
It  would  not,  of  course,  be  true  to  say  that  what  he  learned 
in  the  drawing-room  at  Dawley  was  the  sum  of  what  he 
gathered  durinsr  his  residence  among  us.     For  he  studied 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  119 

our  literature  and  our  history,  our  institutions  and  our  char- 
acter, as  none  of  his  countrymen  have  ever  done  before  or 
since.  But  there  is,  we  tliink,  a  distinction  to  be  drawn 
between  what  he  derived  from  observation  and  study,  and 
what  he  derived  immediately  from  his  intercourse  from 
Bolingbroke,  What  he  saw  and  read,  sent  him  from  our 
shores  a  master  in  the  niceties  of  our  tongue,  a  scholar 
familiar  with  almost  everything  which  English  genius  had 
produced  in  poetry,  in  criticism,  in  satire,  in  metaphysical 
speculation  ;  the  champion  of  civil  and  intellectual  libert}^ 
the  disciple  and  exponent  of  Locke  and  Newton.  From 
Bolingbroke  he  learned  the  application  of  those  studies. 
He  emerged  from  the  school  of  Locke  and  Newton  a  logi- 
cian and  a  philosopher.  He  emerged  from  the  school  of 
Bolingbroke  the  Prince  of  Iconoclasts  and  the  Apostle  of 
Scepticism.  It  was  Bolingbroke  who  taught  him  to  per- 
vert the  "  Essay  on  the  Iliunan  Understanding  "  into  a  vin- 
dication of  materialism,  and  the  "  Novum  Organon  "  into  a 
satire  on  metaphysics.  Nor  was  this  all.  The  writings 
and  the  conversation  of  his  friend  furnished  him  not  only 
with  the  hint  and  framework  of  those  doctrines  which  the 
world  has  for  many  generations  recognized  as  most  charac- 
teristic of  Voltaire,  but  with  an  inexhaustible  store  of  illus- 
trative matter;  with  references,  with  illustrations,  with  ar- 
guments. This  will  be  at  once  evident  if  we  compare  what 
Voltaire  has  written  on  metaphysics,  on  early  Christianity, 
on  theological  dogma,  on  the  nature  of  the  Deity,  on  the 
relation  of  man  to  the  Deity,  on  inspiration,  on  religious 
sectarianism,  on  the  authenticity  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures, 
on  the  authenticity  of  the  Gospels,  on  the  credibility  of 
profane  historians,  on  the  origin  of  civil  society,  on  the  ori- 
gin of  evil,  on  the  study  and  true  use  of  history,  Avith  what 
Bolingbroke  has  written  on  the  same  siil>jocts.    Should  any 


120  ESSAYS. 

one  be  inclined  to  question  the  correctness  of  what  we  have 
advanced,  we  would  exhort  him  to  compare  the  "  Traito  de 
Metaphysique,"  the  "  Dieu  ct  Ics  Ilommcs,"  and  the  "  IIo- 
melie  sur  rAthoisme,"  with  the  Abstract  of  the  "Letters 
to  Poullly,"  and  the  "Essays"  addressed  to  Pope;  the 
"  Examen  Important  de  milord  Bolingbroke,"  and  the  re- 
marks on  Jewish  History  in  the  "  Essai  sur  les  Mceurs," 
with  the  "  Letter  occasioned  by  one  of  Archbishop  Tillot- 
son's  Sermons,"  and  the  dissertation  on  Sacred  Annals  in 
the  "  Third  Letter  on  the  Study  of  History  ;"  the  "  Lettres 
de  Memraius  u  Ciceron  "  with  the  "Minutes  of  Essays;" 
the  tenth,  eleventh,  twelfth,  and  thirteenth  articles  in  the 
"  Fragmens  sur  Tllistoire"  with  the  theories  and  principles 
inculcated  in  the  "Letters  on  the  Study  of  History."  It 
would  not,  perhaps,  be  going  too  far  to  say  that  the  his- 
torical dissertations  of  Bolingbroke  suggested  and  inspired 
both  the  "Essai  sur  les  Mceurs"  and  the  "Essai  sur  Ic 
Pyrrhonismc  de  I'llistoirc,"  as  they  certainly  furnished 
models  for  the  opening  chapters  of  the  "  Siecle  de  Louis 
XIV" 

To  return,  however,  from  our  digression.  Though  Bol- 
ingbroke continued  to  assure  his  friends  that  his  life  at  La 
Source  left  him  nothing  to  desire,  that  his  philosophy  grew 
confirmed  by  habit,  and  that  he  was — we  are  quoting  his 
own  words — under  no  apprehension  that  a  glut  of  .study 
and  retirement  would  ever  cast  him  back  into  the  world, 
his  whole  soul  was  ulcerated  by  discontent  and  impatience. 
He  implored  Lord  Polwarth,  whom  he  met  in  the  spring 
of  1722,  to  remind  the  English  Ministry  of  their  promise. 
He  applied  to  the  Duke  of  Orleans  and  to  Du  Bois  to  ex- 
ercise their  influence  with  AValpole  and  Townshend.  He 
expressed  himself  willing  to  submit  to  any  conditions  if  he 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  121 

could  only  procure  a  pardon.  It  appears  to  have  been  at- 
tained chiefly  througli  the  influence  of  Carteret  and  Towns- 
liend,  who  had  been  induced,  primarily  by  Stair  and  more 
recently  by  Polwarth,  to  remind  the  King  of  what  had, 
seven  years  before,  been  promised  in  the  interview  at  the 
Embassy.*  At  last,  in  May,  1723,  the  grant  which  enabled 
him  to  become  once  more  a  denizen  of  his  native  country 
passed  the  Great  Seal.  An  Act  of  Parliament  was  still  nec- 
essary for  the  restoration  of  his  right  of  inheritance,  and 
for  the  recovery  of  his  seat  in  the  Upper  House,  He  was 
now,  however,  enabled  to  plead  for  himself.  At  the  begin- 
ning of  June  he  set  out  for  England.  As  the  ship  was 
waiting  for  a  favorable  wind  a  curious  incident  occurred. 
A  few  weeks  before,  his  old  coadjutor  Atterbury  had  been 
convicted  of  treasonable  correspondence  with  the  Jacobites, 
and  had  in  consequence  been  ordered  to  quit  the  king- 
dom. The  two  men,  formerly  allied  so  nearly,  and  now  so 
widely  estranged,  passed  each  other,  without  speaking,  at 
Calais — the  one  the  proselyte,  the  other  the  martyr,  of  a 
common  cause.  "  I  am  exchanged,"  was  the  Bishop's  very 
significant  comment. 

On  his  arrival  in  London,  Bolingbroke  found  that  the 
King  liad  departed  for  Hanover,  and  that  the  two  secre- 
taries, Carteret  and  Townshend,  were  with  him.  Many 
months  would  in  all  probability  elapse  before  the  Houses 
reassembled.  During  the  interval  he  hoped  by  dexterous 
diplomacy  to  form  such  alliances  and  to  mature  such 
schemes  as  would,  in  the  following  session,  suffice  to  make 
the  reversal  of  his  attainder  a  matter  of  certainty.  In  the 
tactics  of  political  intrigue  he  had  few  rivals,  and  he  soon 
discovered  that  he  was  in  a  position  eminently  favorable 
for  their  application.     The  schisms  which  had  from  the 

""■  See  "  Marchmont  Papers,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  184. 
6 


122  ESSAYS. 

formation  of  George's  first  Ministry  divitled  tlie  Cabinet 
had  now  resolved  themselves  into  one  great  struggle.  The 
events  of  I7l7  had  left  Sunderland  and  Stanhope  masters 
of  the  field.  The  events  of  1721  had  mined  Sunderland 
and  Stanhope,  and  had  established  the  supremacy  of  Wal- 
pole  and  Townshend.  That  supremacy  had  been  confirm- 
ed by  tho  death  of  Stanhope  in  1721,  and  by  the  death  of 
Sunderland  in  1722.  There  still  remained,  however,  one 
formidable  rival,  a  rival  who  had  inherited  all  those  princi- 
ples of  foreign  and  domestic  policy  which  Sunderland  had 
labored  to  uphold,  who  with  those  principles  possessed 
abilities  such  as  neither  Stanhope  nor  Sunderland  had  any 
pretension  to,  and  who,  though  he  had  not  completed  his 
thirty-third  year,  had  more  influence  in  the  councils  of  Eu- 
rope than  cither  of  the  two  Ministers.  That  rival  was 
Carteret.  As  long  as  Carteret  remained,  Walpolc  and  his 
brother-in-law  saw  that  they  would  have  no  peace.  But 
to  get  rid  of  Carteret  was  no  easy  matter.  At  this  mo- 
ment, indeed,  it  seemed  probable  that  the  struggle  would 
terminate  in  favor  of  their  refractory  colleague.  He  stood 
well  with  the  King;  he  stood  well  with  those  by  whom 
the  King  was  governed,  with  Berndorf  and  Bothmar,  with 
the  Countess  of  Darlington  and  with  the  Countess  of 
Platen.  At  the  Court  of  France  his  influence  was  para- 
mount, for  the  English  ambassador,  Sir  Luke  Schaub,  was 
his  creature,  and  the  late  Regent's  confidential  adviser,  Da 
Bois,  was  his  friend.  While  the  issue  of  this  contest  still 
hung  doubtful,  Bolingbroke  prudently  abstained  from  as- 
suming the  character  of  a  partisan.  Both  of  the  rivals 
could,  as  he  well  knew,  serve  his  turn;  the  opposition  of 
either  might  be  fatal  to  his  interests.  By  estranging  Car- 
teret he  would  estrange  the  Court ;  by  estranging  Walpole 
and  Townslicnd  h6  would  estrange  the  niost  influential 


LORD  EOLINGBEOKE  IN  EXILE.  123 

members  of  the  Upper  and  the  Lower  House.  In  a  few 
weeks,  however,  it  became  more  and  more  evident  that  the 
power  of  Carteret  was  declining,  and  at  the  end  of  July 
Bolingbrokc  attempted,  by  a  skilful  and  well-timed  ma- 
ncenvre,  to  establish  such  relations  with  Walpole  as  must 
have  imposed  on  that  Minister  the  necessity  of  becoming 
his  advocate.  He  was,  he  said,  in  a  position  to  make  a 
proposal,  which  would  not,  he  hoped,  in  the  present  condi- 
tion of  affairs,  be  unacceptable.  His  friends,  the  leaders 
of  the  Tory  party.  Sir  William  Wyndham,  Lord  Bathurst, 
and  Lord  Gower,  were  prepared  to  form  a  coalition  with 
the  brother  Ministers.  They  had  already  been  invited  to 
coalesce  with  Carteret,  but  they  had  no  faith  either  in 
Carteret's  policy  or  in  Carteret's  pron)ises,  and  they  were 
now  willing  to  take  their  stand  by  Walpole  as  they  had 
been  a  few  months  back  ready  to  take  their  stand  by  his 
rival.  W^alpole  at  once  discovered  with  what  object  these 
overtures  had  been  made.  He  had  little  confidence  in  the 
Tories,  he  had  still  less  confidence  in  their  ambassador; 
and  he  not  only  peremptorily  declined  to  enter  into  such 
a  negotiation,  but  he  boldly  told  Bolingbroke  that  he  had 
been  guilty  of  great  indiscretion  in  entangling  himself  in 
Tory  intrigues,  when  his  political  salvation  depended  on 
the  favor  of  a  W^liig  Parliament.  This  was  not  encourag- 
ing, but  Bolingbroke  had  too  much  sagacity  to  display 
either  resentment  or  chagrin  ;  he  gracefully  acknowledged 
the  justice  of  what  Walpole  had  said,  expressed  himself 
perfectly  satisfied  with  the  result  of  their  interview,  and 
withdrew  to  try  his  fortune  with  Townshcnd  and  Carteret. 
In  September  he  started  for  Aix-la-Chapelle,  nominally  on 
the  plea  of  ill-health,  really,  no  doubt,  to  see  if  he  could 
succeed  in  obtaining  an  interview  with  the  King,  and  to 
consider  in  what  way  he  could  turn  to  account  the  despica- 


124  ESSAYS. 

blc  intrigues  whicli  soon  afterwards  terminated  in  the  fall 
of  Carteret.  Diirino-  his  visit  at  Aix-hi-Cliapelle  he  re- 
ceived, however,  no  encouragement  to  go  on  to  Ilerren- 
hausen,  and  in  a  few  weeks  he  proceeded  to  Paris.  He 
found  the  Court  of  Versailles  tbe  centre  of  that  struggle 
which  was  agitating  Whitehall  and  llerrcnhausen.  It  had 
now  reached  its  climax.  The  English  ambassador,  Sir 
Luke  Schaub,  the  nominee  of  Carteret,  had  been  virtually 
superseded  by  Horace  Walpole,  the  nominee  of  Walpolc 
and  Townshend.  Paris  was  distracted  with  the  quarrels 
of  the  rival  Ministers.  The  partisans  of  Carteret  united 
with  Schaub  in  taunting  Walpole  ;  the  partisans  of  Walpole 
united  with  his  brother  in  insulting  Schaub;  and  all  was 
confusion. 

In  the  midst  of  these  ignominious  squabbles  the  Duke 
of  Orleans  died,  and  the  Duke  of  Bourbon  succeeded  him. 
It  was  a  critical  moment.  Our  relations  with  Foreign 
Powers  were  at  that  instant  of  such  a  kind  that  a  change 
in  the  policy  of  the  French  Cabinet  could  not  be  contem- 
plated without  alarm.  W^ith  Orleans  and  Du  Bois  our  in- 
tercourse had  been  frank  and  cordial,  with  the  Duke  of 
Bourbon  wc  were  in  a  manner  dealing  with  one  who  was 
almost  a  stranger.  It  became  very  necessary,  therefore, 
not  only  to  cultivate  his  good-will,  but  to  ascertain,  if  pos- 
sible, his  views.  The  course  of  these  events  had  been 
watched  by  Bolingbroke  with  anxious  interest.  He  had 
now  made  up  his  mind  that  all  was  over  with  Carteret,  he 
had  accordingly  determined  to  have  nothing  more  to  do 
with  Schaub,  and  to  come  to  an  understanding  with  Schaub's 
antagonist.  The  accession  of  the  Duke  of  Bourbon  afford- 
ed him  just  the  opportunity  he  wanted.  He  could  now, 
he  thought,  repeat  with  a  better  chance  of  success  the  same 
stratagem  which  he  had  before  attempted  in  England — 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  IN  EXILE.  125 

could,  that  is  to  say,  force  Lis  services  on  the  Cabinet  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  oblige  them  in  common  jastice  to 
assist  him.  "With  this  object  he  waited  on  Horace  Wal- 
pole.  He  had  come,  he  said,  to  offer  himself  as  a  mediator 
between  the  Embassy  and  the  Court,  and  for  this  post  he 
was,  he  ventured  to  think,  peculiarly  well  qualified.  He 
had  the  good-fortune  to  be  on  intimate  terms  with  the 
Dnke,  and  with  the  only  person  who  had  influence  with 
the  Duke,  with  Madame  de  Pric.  "  And  he  seemed  to 
appear,"  Walpole  dryly  remarks,  "  rather  indifferent  than 
over-fond  of  such  a  commission,  taking  it  for  granted,  at^ 
the  same  time,  as  if  this  had  been  an  application  to  him."* 
He  wrote  off  in  a  similar  strain  to  London,  volunteering  in 
lengthy  despatches  not  only  information  but  counsel.  In 
a  word,  he  managed  with  consummate  dexterity  to  as- 
sume such  importance  in  the  conduct  of  affairs  as  must, 
in  a  few  weeks,  says  Coxe,  have  thrown  the  principal  man- 
agement of  the  whole  business  into  his  hands,  and  have 
necessitated  his  complete  restoration,  both  as  an  act  of 
justice  and  as  an  act  of  expediency.  This,  however,  Hor- 
ace Walpole,  whose  official  distrust  of  his  artful  coadjutor 
appears  to  have  been  sharpened  by  feelings  of  intense  per- 
sonal dislike,  determined  to  prevent.  By  taking  the  bold 
step  of  directly  communicating  with  the  Duke,  he  rendered 
the  interposition  of  Bolingbroke  unnecessary  ;  and  though 
he  continued  to  avail  himself,  in  some  degree,  of  his  as- 
sistance, he  took  care  to  keep  him  in  a  position  strictly 
subordinate.  "  I  have,"  he  writes  to  his  brother  Rolxirt, 
"made  good  use  of  Lord  Bolingbroke's  information,  with- 
out having  given  him  any  handle  to  be  the  negotiator  of  < 
his  Majesty's  affairs."  Before  leaving  Paris,  Bolingbroke 
made  another  desperate  attempt  to  force  himself  into  prom- 

*  Coxc's  "  Memoirs  of  Ilorntio  Lord  Walpole,"  vol.  i.,  p.  110. 


126  ESSAYS. 

inencc,  by  undertaking  the  management  of  an  intrigue,  the 
details  of  whicli  can  liave  no  interest  for  readers  of  the 
present  day,  and  into  vvhicli,  therefore,  we  shall  not  pause 
to  enter.*  But  all  was  in  vain,  and  in  the  summer  of  the 
following  year,  weary,  angry,  and  dejected,  he  hurried  oflE 
to  bury  himself  in  liis  library  at  La  Source, 

Meanwhile  the  treachery  of  an  English  banker,  who  had 
been  intrusted  to  invest  a  large  sum  of  money  belonging 
to  the  Marquise  de  Villette,  but  who  now  refused  to  re- 
fund it,  on  the  plea  that,  as  slie  was  the  wife  of  an  attainted 
citizen,  the  money  had  been  forfeited,  necessitated  the  ap- 
pearance of  Lady  Bolingbrokc  in  London.  She  arrived  in 
May.  She  pleaded  her  own  cause  with  success,  and  her 
husband's  cause  with  assiduity  and  skill.  Her  voluble  elo- 
quence appears,  indeed,  rather  to  have  embarrassed  than  to 
have  charmed  the  King,  but  the  judicious  present  of  eleven 
thousand  pounds  to  the  Duchess  of  Kendal  purchased  the 
services  of  the  most  persuasive  of  all  advocates.  The  King 
promised  to  consult  Walpole,  Walpole,  wlio  had  no  de- 
sire to  find  himself  confronted  on  the  Opposition  benches, 
or  side  by  side  on  the  Treasury  benches,  with  a  rival  so 
able  and  so  unscrupulous  as  Bolingbroke,  expressed  him- 
self in  the  strongest  terms  against  the  measure.  Several 
months  passed  by.  The  Duchess  continued  to  importune 
her  royal  lover ;  Walpole  persisted  in  entreating  the  King 
to  let  the  affair  stand  over.  Every  day,  however,  the  posi- 
tion of  the  Minister  became  more  embarrassing.  Strong 
though  he  was,  he  was  not  strong  enough  to  brave  the  dis- 
pleasure of  the  Duchess,  who  had  already  been  instrument- 
al in  driving  Carteret  and  Cadogan  from  the  helm.     He 

*  For  the  particulars  of  this  intrigue,  which  related  to  the  grant 
of  a  dukedom  to  De  la  Vrilliere,  sec  Coxe's  "  Memoirs  of  Horatio 
Lord  Walpole,"  vol.  i.,  pp.  115-124. 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  L\  EXILE.  127 

^vas  anxious,  also,  to  oblige  Ilarcourt,  with  whom  he  was 
then  on  very  intimate  terms ;  and  of  all  Bolingbroke's  ad- 
vocates, Ilarcourt  was  the  most  indefatigable.  Still  the 
Minister  held  out.  At  last  the  King  became  so  angry  that 
Walpole  was  actually  threatened  with  dismissal  if  he  de- 
layed the  measure  longer.  Then  he  consented  to  a  com- 
promise.* The  Bill  for  Bolingbroke's  restoration  should 
be  introduced,  if  the  restoration  proposed  should  extend 
only  to  a  restoration  of  property  and  of  the  right  of  inher- 
itance. "With  this  Bolingbroke,  who  had  come  over  from 
France  in  the  spring,  and  who  saw  that  for  the  present  at 
least  nothing  further  was  to  be  obtained,  professed  himself 
satisfied.  Accordingly,  in  April,  the  Bill,  presented  by 
Lord  Finch  and  seconded  by  Walpole,  was  brought  in. 
Modified  as  it  was,  a  large  section  of  the  Whigs,  who  had 
not  forgotten  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht,  and  a  large  section  of 
the  Tories,  who  had  not  forgotten  the  events  of  1717,  unit- 
ed in  opposing  it.  Finally,  however,  it  became  law,  by  a 
majority  of  231  against  113,  and  Bolingbroke  could  now 
enjoy  all  the  privileges  of  a  private,  though  not  of  a  pub- 
lic man. 

From  this  moment  he  led  two  lives.  In  his  vilLi  at 
Dawley  he  played  with  still  more  ostentation  the  part 
which  he  had  played  at  Marcilly  and  La  Source,  surrounded 
himself  with  poets  and  wits,  discoui-sed,  we  are  told,  as  no 
mortal  had  ever  discoursed  since  Plotinus  unfolded  himself 
to  Porphyry,  and  became  so  ethereal  that  Pope,  with  tears 
in  his  eyes,  prophesied  for  him  the  fate  of  Elijah.  But  in 
his  house  in  Pall  Mall  he  underwent  a  very  singular  trans- 
formation. There  the  exponent  of  the  Harmony  of  the 
Universe  degenerated  into  a  factious  and  mischievous  in- 
cendiary ;  there  the  opponent  of  Plato  and  the  Academy 

*  Coxo's  "Memoirs  of  Ilor.-itio  Lord  Walpole,"  vol.  i.,  p.  125. 


128  ESSAYS. 

sank  into  the  opponent  of  Iloadlcy  and  Grub  Street ;  and 
tliere  the  patriot,  wlio  had  in  the  niorning  been  cnrsin!^ 
faction  because  it  was  ruining  his  country,  and  expressing 
contempt  for  civil  ambition  as  unworthy  of  even  tlie  mo- 
mentary consideration  of  a  philosopher,  was,  in  the  even- 
ing, plotting  with  the  chiefs  of  the  Opposition  the  down- 
fall of  the  Government,  and  ready  to  sell  his  very  soul  for 
a  place. 


1 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE. 


SUMMARY. 


Bolingbrokc  chiefly  noticeable  as  a  polemic  writer :  his  position 
and  influence  iu  the  political  contest,  p.  131,  132  —  Attitude  of  the 
Parties:  the  leaders  of  the  Opposition,  p.  133-137 — Organization  of 
the  strife;  launching  of  the  Opposition  paper,  the  Craftmian,  p.  137, 
138 — Bolingbrokc  one  of  its  chief  contributors,  p.  138 — His  interview 
with  the  King  fruitless,  p.  139,  140— Death  of  the  King,  p.  141— Crit- 
ical aspect  of  affairs,  ibid — Walpole  restored  to  power,  p.  142 — Dis- 
graceful party  strife  iu  Parliament:  venality  of  office-holders,  p.  142- 
144 — The  Opposition  party  playing  on  the  popular  feeling  in  order  to 
discredit  the  AYalpole  Ministry,  p.  144-147 — Nearly  successful,  p.  147 
— The  Excise  bill,  p.  147-149 — Review  of  Bolingbroke's  literary  activ- 
ity in  the  Craftsman  froni-1727  until  1734,  p.  150 — His  "  Remarks  on 
the  History  of  England,"  p.  151-153 — His  "Dissertation  upon  Par- 
ties," p.  154, 155— Bolingbrokc  as  a  writer  on  philosophical  and  meta- 
physical subjects :  his  rural  pursuits  at  his  country-house  at  Dawlcy, 
p.  155,  156 — His  open-handedness  to  friends,  p.  157,  158 — His  friend- 
ship with  Pope,  p.  159 — His  influence  on  Pope's  mind  and  studies, 
p.  159-103 — His  departure  from  England:  reasons  for  same,  p.  1G3- 
165 — His  residence  in  France:  exclusive  devotion  to  philosophic  in- 
quiries, p.  165,  166 — His  "Letters  on  the  Study  of  History,"  p.  106, 
167 — His  "Letter  on  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism,"  p.  168 — Character  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales,  p.  169-171 — Unscrupulous  adulation  of  same  in 
Bolingbroke's  writings,  p.  171, 172 — His  "Patriot  King:"  considera- 
tions thereon,  p.  172-175 — Walpole's  influence  declining:  his  resig- 
nation, p.  175,  176 — Bolingbrokc  arrives  too  late  from  France:  the 
Premiership  has  already  been  snatched  from  him,  p.  176 — Retrospect 
of  Bolingbroke's  literary  career,  p.  177 — His  unworthy  conduct  tow- 
ards Pope,  p.  177-179 — His  last  days,  p.  180 — Afflictions  of  age:  his 
death,  p.  181 — Review  of  his  philosophical  works,  p.  181-186 — Sum- 
mary of  his  philosophy,  p.  185, 186 — Epilogue,  p.  187. 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE. 

lN"_£mr  last  article  wa  left  Bolingbrokc  on  the  eve  of 
that  treme^ndous  struggle  which  continued  for  fifteen  years 
to  agitate  the  public  mind  in  England,  which  was  to  end 
in  the  downfall  of  Whig  tyranny,  which  was  to  revolution- 
ize the  creed  of  the  Two  Factions,  and  which  was  to  estab- 
lish new  dynasties  with  new  principles  in  party  politics. 
To  that  great  revolution  no  one  contributed  more  power- 
fully than  he.  The  more  closely  we  follow  its  history  in 
his  essays  and  correspondence — and  nowhere  is  its  history 
written  so  fully  and  so  legibly — the  more  obvious  will  this 
appear.  Almost  every  manoeuvre  on  the  part  of  the  Op- 
position we  find  traceable,  in  the  first  instance,  to  his  sug- 
gestion. From  him  emanated  the  theories  and  sentiments 
which,  promulgated  at  one  time  by  the  Whig  and  at  an- 
other time  by  the  Tory  section  of  the  minority,  matured 
into  the  gospel  of  the  Patriots.  It  w^as  be  who  had  the 
sagacity  to  discover  where  Walpole  and  his  oolleagucs  were 
most  vulnerable.  It  was  he  who  shook  England  with  the 
tempest  of  1733.  It  was  he  who  barbed  and  aimed  the 
deadliest  of  the  bolts  which  Pulteney  and  Wyndham 
winged  from  the  Opposition  benches.  Of  all  this  we  have 
ample  evidence  in  such  of  his  writings  as  have  been  given 
to  the  world.  But  his  influence  on  political  history  dur- 
ing these  years  would,  we  suspect,  be  found  to  bo  even 
more  considerable  than  we  know  it  to  have  been,  if  his  nn- 


132  ESSAYS. 

published  correspondence,  now  mouldering  in  the  archives 
of  Tctwortli,  llaglcy,  and  Ilcnicl  Ilemsted,  were  properly 
examined,  llis  biographers  appear  to  have  made  no  ef- 
fort to  obtain  access  to  these  collections.  They  have  con- 
tented themselves  with  such  extracts  as  have  been  given 
by  Coxc,  Phillimore,  and  the  editor  of  the  "  Marchmont 
Papers." 

But  the  period  of  Bolingbroke's  literary  activity  has  an- 
other side.  Between  1726  and  1752  he  was  not  merely 
the  leader  of  the  Patriots  and  the  most  indefatigable  of 
political  controversialists,  he  was  the  centre  of  other  and 
calmer  spheres.  It  will  be  our  pleasant  task  to  follow  him 
thither,  and  our  readers  will  doubtless  be  as  glad  as  our- 
selves to  exchange  Pall  Mall  for  Dawley,  to  quit  Walpolc 
and  Townshend  for  Pope  and  Voltaire,  and  to  escape  from 
Excise  Bills  and  Secessions  to  discuss  the  First  Philosophy, 
and  the  "  Essay  on  Man." 

At  the  beginning  of  1726  the  position  of  Walpole  and 
Townshend  appeared  impregnable.  They  stood  high  in 
the  favor  of  the  King  aud  in  the  favor  of  the  people.  The 
removal  of  Carteret  had  relieved  tbcm  of  their  only  for- 
midable rival  in  the  Cabinet.  The  disgrace  of  Atterbury, 
four  years  before,  had  completed  the  paralysis  of  the  Jac- 
obites. The  Opposition  was  too  divided  in  its  views,  and 
too  heterogeneous  in  its  composition,  to  afford  any  grounds 
for  apprehension.  The  clouds  which  had  for  many  months 
obscured  the  horizon  of  foreign  politics  had  been  dispersed. 
The  Treaty  of  Hanover  had  defeated  the  hostile  designs 
of  Spain  and  Austria.  Comparative  tranquillity  at  last 
reigned  in  Scotland  and  Ireland.  But  a  great  change  was 
at  hand.  A  new  era  in  Parliamentary  history  had  already 
begun. 

Of  all  the  enemies  of  Walpole  the  most  active  and  the 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLIXGBROKE.  133 

most  malignant  was  Daniel  Pulteney.  During  the  reign 
of  Anne  he  had  been  envoy  at  Copenhagen.  As  a  Com- 
missioner of  Trade  and  as  a  Lord  of  the  Admiralty — for 
between  17 17  and  1721  he  filled  both  these  appointments 
— he  had  proved  himself  a  useful  and  industrious  public 
servant.  lie  had  been  the  friend  and  confidant  of  Sun- 
derland during  the  whole  period  when  the  feud  between 
AValpole  and  Sunderland  was  deadliest.  When  Sunderland 
fell  in  1721,  Pulteney  had  borne  a  principal  share  in  those 
cabals  by  which  his  patron  sought  to  recover  office.  As 
the  price  of  this  co-operation  he  had,  in  the  event  of  suc- 
cess, been  promised  the  Seals,  and  he  had  therefore  distin- 
guished himself  by  his  hostility  to  AValpole,  for  on  the 
ruin  of  Walpole  depended  his  own  advancement.  But  the 
death  of  Sunderland  dashed  all  these  hopes  to  the  ground. 
From  this  moment  he  became  a  soured  and  gloomy  misan- 
thrope. The  prejudices  which  he  had  inherited  from  Sun- 
derland, aggravated  by  his  own  bad  passions,  inflamed  his 
animosity  against  Walpole  to  such  a  pitch  that  it  resem- 
bled monomania.  But  he  was  a  monomaniac  of  a  very 
dangerous  character.  For  with  solid  parts  and  methodical 
habits  he  united  no  small  skill  in  the  tactics  of  intrigue. 
Though  he  was  no  liypocrite,  manners  naturally  graceful 
and  pleasing,  and  a  temper  kindly  and  generous  when  un- 
provoked, served  to  conceal  the  implacable  malignity  of 
liis  disposition  when  anything  occurred  to  ruffle  him.  Ilis 
energy  was  indefatigable.  As  a  speaker  he  was  clear  and 
weighty.  His  acquaintance  with  affairs  was  extensive ;  his 
Parliamentary  connection  considerable.  lie  was  now  toil- 
ing night  and  day  to  form  out  of  the  scattered  elements  of 
the  Opposition  a  coalition  against  W^alpole.  lie  lacked, 
however,  the  qualities  necessary  for  organization ;  and 
though  he  was  eminently  fitted  for  the  duties  of  a  subor- 


134  ESSAYS. 

dinatc,  lie  was  by  no  means  competent  to  lead.*  What 
Daniel  Piiltcney  lacked,  that  his  kinsman  William  possess- 
ed. No  politician  of  those  times  filled  a  larger  space  in 
the  public  eye  than  William  Pulteney.  He  had  entered 
office  while  still  a  very  young  man ;  his  family  was  influ- 
ential; no  stain  rested  on  his  character;  his  private  fort- 
une was  immense.  Ilis  parts  were  so  brilliant,  his  genius 
so  versatile,  that  in  whatever  walk  of  life  his  lot  had  been 
cast,  he  would  in  all  probability  have  achieved  eminence. 
Ilis  political  pamphlets  and  his  papers  in  the  Craftsman 
remain  to  testify  his  abilities  as  a  writer.f  One  of  his 
songs  was  for  many  years  among  the  most  popular  in  our 
language;  and  Pope  has  in  a  celebrated  verse  expressed  his 
opinion  that,  had  Pulteney  chosen  to  cultivate  light  litera- 
ture, he  would  have  rivalled  Martial.  As  a  wit  and  a  say- 
er  of  good  things  he  was  considered  not  inferior  to  Ches- 
terfield, and  many  of  his  bon-mots  still  hold  a  distinguished 
place  in  literary  anas.  The  extent  and  variety  of  his  at- 
tainments were  the  wonder  of  all  who  knew  him.  With 
the  masterpieces  of  ancient  and  modern  literature  he  was 
equally  conversant.  His  familiarity,  indeed,  with  the  Greek 
classics  was  such  as  was  in  that  age  very  unusual,  even 
with  professed  scholars.  But  no  rust  of  pedantry  dimmed 
the  keen  and  brilliant  intellect  of  William  Pulteney.  In 
practical  sagacity  and  in  official  experience  he  was  scarcely 
inferior,  perhaps,  to  Walpole,  and  he  needed  only  Walpole's 
equanimity  and  self-control  to  become  as  autocratic  and 
successful.     As  an  orator  he  had,  since  the  retirement  of 

*  For  the  character  of  Daniel  Pulteney,  see  Speaker  Onslow's  "  Re- 
marks," Coxc's  "  Memoirs  of  Sir  Robert  Walpole,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  559. 

f  The  papers  written  by  him  are  marked  C,  and  those  marked  CA. 
were  written  conjointly  with  Amhurst.  See  Bishop  Newton's  "  Au- 
tobiography," p.  123. 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  B0LINGJ3R0KE,  135 

Bolingbroke  and  till  the  appearance  of  Pitt,  no  equal  among 
contemporary  statesmen.  He  shone  alike  in  exposition  and 
in  debate,  in  set  orations  and  in  extempore  speeches.  At 
this  moment,  indeed,  he  had  not  yet  arrived  at  that  degree 
of  excellence  which,  at  the  head  of  the  Opposition,  he 
shortly  afterwards  attained.  Ever  since  his  entrance  into 
public  life,  he  had  distinguished  himself  as  a  firm  and  con- 
sistent Whig.  When  the  schism  took  place  in  171 7,  he 
had  attached  himself  to  Walpole,  had  resigned  a  valuable 
place,  and  had  followed  the  fortunes  of  his  friend.  When 
AValpole  returned  to  power,  Pulteney  was  not  invited  to 
fill  a  seat  in  the  Cabinet.  An  angry  discussion  between 
the  two  friends  ensued.  Walpole  proposed  an  indemnity 
in  the  shape  of  a  peerage.  This  Pulteney  regarded  as  an 
aggravation  of  the  slight.  For  some  time  he  continued  to 
remain  a  vexatious  and  irritable  member  of  the  Govern- 
ment. At  last,  in  April,  1725,  he  was  dismissed  from  a 
post  which  he  held  in  the  Household,  and  openly  went 
over  to  the  minority.  Walpole,  fully  aware  both  of  the 
influence  and  of  the  abilities  of  the  man  who  had  now  de- 
clared war  against  him,  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  bribe 
him  back.  But  affairs  had  gone  too  far.  Nothing  would 
satisfy  Pulteney  but  the  ruin  of  his  old  colleague.  He 
had,  he  said,  been  grievously  wronged,  and  he  would  have 
his  revenge. 

While  the  two  Pulteneys  were  thus  brooding  over  their 
grievances,  and  waiting  for  an  opportunity  of  vengeance, 
another  malcontent,  not  less  rancorous  and  even  more  for- 
midable, was  similarly  engaged.  For  two  years  Boling- 
broke had  submitted  to  every  indignity  that  he  might  re- 
gain his  seat.  lie  had  lackeyed  and  flattered  Walpole, 
whom  he  hated.  lie  had  lackeyed  and  flattered  Walpole's 
brother,  whom  he  despised,     lie  liad  been  lavish  of  his 


13G  ESSAYS. 

money,  of  bis  energy,  and  of  his  time ;  and  he  had,  after  a 
long  and  weary  struggle,  been  forced  to  accept  a  compro- 
mise, which  rendered  him  capable  of  possessing  fortune 
and  incapable  of  enjoying  it.  For  this  restriction  on  his 
happiness  he  had  been  indebted  to  Walpolc;  and  he  now 
resolved  not  merely  to  obtain  the  removal  of  this  restric- 
tion, but  to  make  the  Minister  who  had  imposed  it  feel 
the  full  effect  of  his  resentment.  The  Pultencys  and  him- 
self soon  came  to  an  understanding.  The  plan  of  opera- 
tion was  simple.  It  was  obvious  that  the  security  of  Wal- 
polc could  never  be  shaken  as  long  as  his  opponents  re- 
mained disunited.  At  this  moment  the  minority  consisted 
of  three  distinct  bodies  of  men  :  a  large  section  of  discon- 
tented Whigs,  a  large  section  of  Tories  who  had  abandoned 
Jacobitism,  and  a  small  section  of  Tories  who  still  adhered 
to  it.  Could  these  factions  be  induced  to  coalesce  ?  Could 
they  be  induced  to  bury  minor  differences  in  common  hos- 
tility against  a  common  foe  ?  The  co-operation  of  the  Jac- 
obite contingent  was  not,  indeed,  a  matter  of  much  mo- 
ment ;  but  the  co-operation  of  the  Hanoverian  Tories  was 
of  the  last  importance.  Now,  the  leader  of  this  faction 
was  Sir  William  Wyndhara,  and  with  Wyndham  Boling- 
broke  lived  not  merely  on  terms  of  intimacy,  but  on  terms 
of  affection.  Sir  AVilliam  was  at  once  taken  into  the  con- 
fidence of  the  conspirators,  and  in  a  very  short  time  the 
party  at  the  head  of  which  were  the  Pultencys,  and  the 
party  at  the  head  of  which  was  Wyndham,  had,  by  the 
mediation  of  Bolingbroke,  consented  to  act  together.  Such 
was  the  origin  of  that  famous  Coalition,  which  continued 
for  so  many  years  to  keep  this  country  in  a  state  of  per-' 
petual  agitation,  which  inspired  politics  with  new  princi- 
ples, and  literature  with  a  new  spirit ;  which  brought  into 
being  a  new  school  of  politicians,  which  destroyed  Walpolc 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  i;;7 

and  created  Pitt,  wliicli  nnmbered  among  its  ranks  in  Par- 
Hamcnt  the  most  accomplished  public  men,  and  in  its  ranks 
out  of  Parliament  some  of  the  most  distinguished  men  of 
letters  then  living ;  for  among  the  first,  in  addition  to  the 
Pultenej^,  were  Wyndham,  Carteret,  Chesterfield,  Argyle, 
Pitt,  Polworth,  Dodington,  Lyttelton,  and  Barnard ;  and 
among  the  second,  in  addition  to  Bolingbroke,  were  Pope, 
Swift,  Arbuthnot,  Gay,  Fielding,  Akenside,  Brooke,  Thom- 
son, Paul  Whitehead,  Glover,  and  Johnson. 

Having  concluded  their  arrangements  for  embarrassing 
the  Government  within  the  walls  of  St.  Stephen's,  Boling- 
broke and  Pulteney  now  proceeded  to  consider  in  what 
way  they  could  rouse  and  engage  the  passions  of  the  coun- 
try.  A  few  years  before  these  events  occurred,  an  under- 
graduate at  Oxford,  named  Amhurst,  had  been  expelled 
from  his  college  on  a  charge  of  libertinism  and  insubordi- 
nation. Since  that  time  he  had  been  engaged  in  libelling 
the  Unlversit}'.  He  was  now  pushing  his  fortunes  in 
London.  Though  his  habits  were  squalid  and  profligate, 
he  was,  as  his  writings  showed,  a  man  of  parts  and  wit; 
and  as  he  possessed,  in  addition  to  these  qualifications,  an 
empty  purse,  loose  principles,  and  a  facile  pen,  he  had  al- 
ready risen  to  distinction  among  journalists.  Pulteney 
proposed,  therefore,  that  negotiations  should  be  opened 
with  Amhurst,  and  that  be  should  be  invited  to  undertake 
the  management  of  a  periodical.  This  periodical  was  to 
be  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Opposition.  It  was  to  demon- 
strate to  the  whole  nation  the  tyranny,  the  insolence,  and 
the  rapacity  of  AValpole.  It  was  to  assail  his  foreign  and 
domestic  policy,  and  to  point  out  that  the  one  was  a  tissue 
of  liluiuli  IS,  and  the  other  a  tissue  of  corruption.  It  was 
to  charge  him  with  making  the  King  his  dupe,  that  he 
might  make  him  his  tool,  and  the  Cabinet  his  parasites, 


138  ESSAYS. 

that  lie  miglit  inukc  tlic  people  his  slaves.  There  was  lit- 
tle difficulty  in  inducing  Amhurst  to  occupy  a  post  for 
which  he  was  so  well  fitted;  and  on  the  5th  of  December, 
1720,  appeared  the  first  number  of  the  Craftsman.  It  is 
not  now,  we  believe,  possible  to  recover  the  names  of  all 
the  contributors  to  this  famous  publication,  wliich  contin- 
ued for  upward  of  ten  years  to  exercise  an  influence  on 
public  opinion  without  precedent  in  journalism.  By  far 
the  largest,  and  beyond  question  the  most  valuable  portion, 
is  to  be  ascribed  to  Bolingbroke.  Many  papers  were  con- 
tributed by  Pulteney,  many  by  Amhurst,  and  many  by 
Amhurst  and  Pulteney  in  conjunction.  The  circulation 
was,  for  those  times,  enormous.  Indeed,  it  is  said  at  one 
time  to  have  exceeded  ten  thousand  copies  a  week. 

Bolingbroke  was  now  all  fire  and  liope.  In  the  spring 
of  1727,  in  addition  to  his  Essays  in  the  Craftsman,  he 
produced,  under  the  title  of  the  "  Occasional  Writer,"  three 
papers  so  acrimonious  and  personal  as  to  ruffle  even  the 
imperturbable  temper  of  Walpole.  Into  the  particulars  of 
these  altercations  we  cannot  enter ;  but  as  a  specimen  of 
the  decency  with  which  political  controversy  was,  in  the 
days  of  our  fathers,  occasionally  conducted,  we  will  tran- 
scribe a  few  sentences  of  the  First  Minister's  rejoinder : 

"  Though  you  have  not  signed  your  name,  I  know  you  :  you  arc  an 
infamous  fellow,  a  perjured,  ungrateful,  unfaithful  rascal  ...  of  so 
profligate  a  character  that  in  your  prosperity  nobody  envied  you,  and 
in  your  disgrace  nobody  pities.  You  were  in  the  interests  of  France 
and  of  the  Pope,  as  hath  appeared  by  your  writings,  and  you  went 
out  of  the  way  to  save  yourself  from  the  gallows.  You  have  no  abil- 
ities ;  you  are  an  emancipated  slave,  a  proscribed  criminal,  and  an 
insolvent  debtor.  You  went  out  of  the  way  to  save  yourself  from 
the  gallows,  and  Herostratus  and  Nero  were  not  greater  villains  than 
you.  You  have  been  a  traitor  and  should  be  used  like  one.  And  I 
love  my  master  so  well  that  I  will  never  advise  him  to  use  you,  lest 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLIXGBROKE.  139 

you  should  jostle  me  out  of  my  employment.  I  know  you  to  be  so 
liot -headed  that  when  you  read  this  you  will  vent  all  your  malice 
against  me.  But  I  do  not  value  it,  for  I  would  rather  have  you  my 
enemy  than  my  friend.  Change  your  name  and  be  as  abusive  and 
scurrilous  as  you  please,  I  shall  lind  you  out.  You  may  change  to  a 
flame,  a  lion,  a  bull,  or  a  bear,  I  shall  know  you,  baffle  you,  conquer 
you,  and  contemn  you.  All  your  opposition  will  redound  to  my  honor 
and  glory." 

This  was  not  exactly  the  style  of  Bolingbroko,  and  "Wal- 
pole  novel'  afterwards  ventured,  we  believe,  to  confront  his 
adversary  on  paper.  While  the  press  was  thus  liard  at 
work,  Bolingbroke  was  busy  also  in  another  quarter.  It 
was  well  known  that  the  Duchess  of  Kendal  and  her  niece, 
Lady  AValsingham,  were  by  no  means  favorably  disposed 
towards  Walpole.  It  was  notorious,  also,  that  the  King 
and  the  Prince  of  Wales  were  at  open  war,  and  that  the 
affections  of  the  Prince  were  divided  between  his  wife 
and  Mrs.  Iloward.  By  assiduously  cultivating  the  Duch- 
ess and  her  niece,  Bolingbroke  sought,  therefore,  to  gain 
the  ear  of  the  King;  and  by  assiduously  cultivating  Mrs. 
Howard,  to  secure  the  favor  of  the  heir-apparent.  This 
double  intrigue  was,  however,  a  matter  of  considerable 
difficulty;  for  by  paying  court  to  the  King  he  ran  the 
risk  of  estranging  the  Prince,  and  by  paying  court  to 
the  Prince  he  was  almost  certain  to  estrange  the  King. 
He  conducted  it  at  first  with  consummate  tact.  In  the 
first  part  of  it,  indeed,  he  was  successful.  The  Duchess 
became  his  advocate.  She  even  risked  a  large  pension  to 
serve  him.  lie  drew  up  an  elaborate  statement  enumer- 
ating the  blunders  of  Walpole,  enlarging  on  his  unpopu- 
larity, incapacity,  and  corruption,  and  offering,  if  the  King 
would  grant  an  interview,  to  demonstrate  at  length  the 
truth  of  what  he  had  asserted.     This  document  the  Duch- 


HO  ESSAYS. 

ess  placed  in  the  King's  hands.  lie  perused  it  and  sent  it 
on  to  Walpolc.  Walpole  advised  the  King  to  grant  the 
interview,  and  the  interview  was  granted.  On  this  critical 
occasion  Bolingbroke  acquitted  himself  with  far  less  dex- 
terity than  might  have  been  expected  from  so  accomplished 
a  diplomatist.  He  began  with  a  florid  eulogy  of  his  own 
merits  and  abilities,  lie  then  went  on  to  assail  in  general 
terms  the  character  and  the  conduct  of  his  opponent;  and 
when  the  King,  interrupting,  asked  for  proofs  and  particu- 
lar illustrations  of  what  he  was  advancing,  he  merely  pro- 
ceeded to  recapitulate  in  other  words  the  same  general 
charges.  Walpole  was  notoriously  unfit  for  his  post:  he 
was  despised  abroad,  he  was  hated  at  home ;  he  was  in- 
volving affairs  in  inextricable  confusion ;  he  would,  if  he 
continued  in  power,  make  his  royal  master  as  unpopular  as 
himself.  "Is  this,"  said  the  King,  becoming  impatient, 
"  all  you  have  to  say  ?"  And  with  these  words  he  turned 
on  his  heel,  and  Bolingbroke  was  curtly  dismissed. 

It  seems,  indeed,  quite  clear  that  nothing  that  Boling- 
broke had  said  had  made  any  serious  impression  on  his 
majesty,  as  the  King  afterwards  spoke  of  him  as  a  knave, 
and  of  the  statements  he  had  made  as  bagatelles.  But  it 
is  equally  clear  that  Walpole  was,  in  spite  of  the  King's 
assurance,  greatly  alarmed.  The  favor  of  princes  was,  as 
lie  well  knew,  a  perishable  commodity.  He  was  surround- 
ed by  enemies;  almost  all  those  enemies  were  the  coadju- 
tors of  his  rival:  his  influence  with  the  King  was  great, 
but  the  influence  of  the  Duchess  was  greater;  and  with 
the  Duchess  the  cause  of  Bolingbroke  had  now  become  in 
a  manner  her  own.  Indeed,  Walpole  is  said  to  have  been 
so  convinced  that  his  rival  would  ultimately  supplant  him, 
that  he  was  on  the  point  of  resigning  the  Seals  and  of  ac- 
cepting a  seat  in  the  Upper  House.     The  chances  of  Bol- 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLIXGBROKE.  141 

ingbroke  at  this  singular  crisis  have  doubtless  been  exao-- 
gerated,  but  there  is,  we  think,  ample  reason  for  supposing 
that  had  the  King  lived  a  few  months  longer,  a  revolution, 
of  which  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  foretell  the  conse- 
quences, might  have  ensued.  Whether  Bolingbroke  would 
have  succeeded  in  replacing  Walpole,  as  he  confidently  an- 
ticipated, is,  we  think,  very  problematical,  though  Pelham 
assured  Onslow — and  Pelham  in  all  likelihood  was  simply 
repeating  what  lie  had  heard  from  Walpole — that,  had  the 
King  lived  to  come  back  from  Hanover,  "  it  was  very  prob- 
able that  he  would  have  made  Lord  Bolingbroke  his  Chief 
Minister."  That  Bolingbroke  would  have  succeeded  in  re- 
gaining his  seat  in  the  Upper  House  is  more  than  probable. 
"  As  he  had  the  Duchess  entirely  on  his  side,"  said  Wal- 
pole to  Etough  ten  years  afterwards,  "  I  need  not  add  what 
must  or  might  have  been  the  consequence."  At  the  be- 
ginning of  June  the  King  set  out  for  Ilanover.  On  the 
fourteenth  a  despatch  arrived  announcing  his  death. 

In  an  instant  everything  was  in  confusion.  Nothing 
seemed  certain  but  the  fall  of  Walpole.  The  new  king 
ordered  the  First  Minister  to  receive  his  instructions  from 
Sir  Spencer  Compton.  Two  of  his  creatures  were  dis- 
missed'from  their  employment;  his  parasites  abandoned 
him  ;  his  antechamber  was  a  desert.  The  Opposition  con- 
fidently anticipated  that  their  time  had  come.  Ten  days 
afterwards  all  was  changed.  The  ludicrous  incompetence 
of  Compton,  Walpolc's  own  tact,  and  the  favor  of  the 
Queen,  saved  the  Ministry.  Bolingbroke  and  Pulteney, 
who  had  placed  all  their  hopes  on  Mrs.  Howard,  soon  found 
that  Mrs.  Howard  was  as  helpless  as  themselves.  Judging 
as  men  of  the  world  would  be  likely  to  judge,  they  had 
concluded  that  the  mistress  would  have  more  authority 
than  the  wife,  and  that  the  King,  as  a  lover,  would  be  more 


112  ESSAYS. 

amenable  to  persuasion  than  the  King  as  a  liusband.  But 
tlicy  were  as  yet  imperfectly  acquainted  botli  with  tlic 
strange  cliaracter  of  the  new  sovereign  and  with  the  still 
stranger  character  of  the  woman  who  shared  bis  throne. 
In  truth,  the  relation  between  a  husband  habitually  uxori- 
ous and  habitually  unfaithful,  and  a  wife  who,  to  maintain 
her  supremacy,  condescends  to  superintend  the  amours  of 
her  consort,  might  well  be  misinterpreted  even  by  the  most 
penetrating  observer.  Before  lier  accession  the  Queen  had 
been  the  friend  of  Walpole,  and  liad  in  strong  terms  ex- 
pressed her  aversion  to  Bolingbroke,  After  her  accession 
she  entered  into  the  closest  alliance  with  her  favorite  Min- 
ister, and  became  even  more  emphatic  in  lier  hostility  to 
his  opponent.  Against  such  a  coalition — for  the  secret  of 
the  Queen's  power  was  soon  known  —  Bolingbroke  saw 
that  it  would  be  idle  to  contend,  lie  abandoned,  there- 
fore, all  hopes  of  making  his  peace  with  the  King.  Fort- 
une had  again  played  him  false.  Ilis  defeat  had  been 
complete  and  ignominious. 

But  he  was  not  the  man  to  despair.  If  victory  had  been 
lost  on  one  field,  it  might  be  gained  on  another.  If  he 
could  not  appeal  to  the  King,  he  could  appeal  to  the  coun- 
try, and  t )  make  tliat  appeal  he  now  bent  all  his  energies. 

The  I'arliamcntary  history  of  the  next  twelve  years  is 
one  of  the  most  scandalous  chapters  in  our  national  annals. 
At  the  head  of  the  Government  stood  a  Minister,  experi- 
enced indeed,  moderate,  skilful,  and  sagacious,  but  selfish 
beyond  all  example  of  political  selfishness,  and  ready  at 
any  moment  to  sacrifice  his  convictions  to  his  interests, 
and  his  country  to  his  place.  At  the  head  of  the  Opposi- 
tion stood  a  body  of  malcontents,  whose  conduct  was  on 
all  occasions  dictated  by  motives  of  mere  personal  animos- 
ity, and  whose  policy,  if  policy  it  could  be  called,  consisted 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  143 

simply  inj)p2osinj5_wliatcvcr  their  rivals  advocated,  anil  in 
advocating  whatever  their  rivals  opposed.  In  neither  party 
can  wo  discern  any  of  those  qualities  which  entitle  public 
men  to  veneration.  Thcj;ices  of-AValpolc  were  gross  and 
flagrant.  The  virtues  so  ostentatiously  professed  by  his 
opponents  consisted  of  nothing  more  than  a  pompous  jar- 
gon of  words.  By  both  parties  the  welfare  of  the  country 
was,  in  the  exigencies  of  their  ignoble  struggle,  regarded 
as  a  matter  of  purely  secondary  consideration.  To  embar- 
rass AValpole,  the  Opposition  united  to  defeat  measures 
the  soundness  and  utility  of  which  must  have  been  obvious 
to  a  politician  of  the  meanest  capacity.  To  maintain  him- 
self against  the  Opposition,  Walpole  was  often  compelled 
to  resort  to  expedients  by  which,  as  he  well  knew,  tempo- 
rary advantages  were  obtained  at  high  prices  and  at  great 
risk.  The  sole  object  of  AYalpoIc  was  at  all  costs  to  main- 
tain his  place.  The  sole  object  of  the  Opposition  was  to 
dislodge  him.  This  they  endeavored  to  effect,  not  so  much 
by  grappling  with  their  enemy  in  his  stronghold,  as  by  or- 
ganizing an  elaborate  system  of  counter-manoeuvres.  Thus 
because  "Walpole  was_ for  alliance  with  France,  the  Opposi- 
tion was  for  alliance  with  Austria.  Thus,  when  Walpole, 
though  nominally  the  leader  of  the  Whigs,  became  in 
everything  but  in  name  a  Tory,  the  leaders  of  the  Opposi- 
tion, though  they  were  for  the  most  part  Tories,  became 
in  everything  but  in  name  Whigs.  When  Walpole  played 
the  autocrat,  the  Opposition  played  the  demagogue ;  Wal- 
pole harangued  against  factious  incendiaries,  and  the  Op- 
position harangued  against  Royal  parasites. 

But  it  was  not  on  these  points  that  the  minority  took 
their  principal  stand.  It  was  no  secret  that  to  secure  his 
majority  Walpole  practised  corruption  on  a  very  large 
scale,  and  that  to  control  Parliament  he  filled  all  places  of 


H4  ESSAYS. 

honor  and  emolument  with  his  creatures.  We  have  not 
the  smallest  doubt  that  every  member  of  the  Opposition, 
with  the  exception,  perhaps,  of  Barnard  and  Shippen,  would, 
had  he  been  in  Walpole's  place,  have  acted  in  precisely  the 
same  manner.  But  Walpole  was  in  and  the  Opposition 
were  out.  To  combat  him  witli  his  own  weapons  was  im- 
possible. The  Royal  favor,  boundless  patronage,  a  venal 
Senate  with  ample  means  for  purchasing  its  votes,  venal 
constituencies  with  ample  means  for  buying  their  electors, 
gave  him  an  immense  advantage  over  opponents  whose 
only  resources  lay  in  eloquence  and  in  the  fortunes  of  pri- 
vate gentlemen.  One  course,  and  one  course  alone,  was 
open  to  them.  In  such  contests  the  ultimate  appeal  lies 
to  the  people.  To  the  people,  therefore,  the  Opposition 
determined  to  address  themselves,  and  they  prepared  at 
the  same  time  to  endeavor  to  educate  their  judges.  This 
was  not  difficult.  The  principles  on  which  AValpole  gov- 
erned were,  when  interpreted  by  skilful  rhetoricians,  capa- 
ble of  being  rendered  peculiarly  odious  to  a  proud  and 
high-spirited  nation.  It  is  one  thing  for  a  man  to  pocket 
a  bribe,  it  is  another  thing  for  a  man  to  feel  himself  a 
slave.  No  Englishman,  however  degraded,  was  insensible 
to  the  tradition  of  a  great  and  splendid  past,  or  would  sub- 
mit to  see  public  morality  systematically  outraged,  and  the 
national  honor  sullied.  No  Englishman,  however  selfish, 
would  consent,  even  at  the  price  of  material  prosperity,  to 
connive  at  tyranny,  or  to  allow  the  slightest  of  his  privi- 
leges to  be  tampered  with.  The  old  war-cries  were  still 
efficacious.  The  spirit  which  brought  Strafford  to  the 
block  and  set  the  Deliverer  on  the  throne  still  burned  in 
the  breasts  of  thousands.  The  King  was  unpopular,  and 
was,  like  his  predecessor,  suspected  of  making  the  interests 
of  Eniiland  altoo-ethcr  subordinate  to  the  interests  of  Ilan- 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLING  BROKE.  145 

over,  aTid  in  this  unpopularity  Walpole  soon  found  himself 
invoh'cd. 

In  1730  the  retirement  of  Townshcnd  left  Walpole  in 
the  possession  of  power  more  absolute  than  any  English 
Minister  had  enjoyed  since  the  days  of  the  first  two  Stu- 
arts. This  soon  became  a  fertile  theme  with  his  enemies. 
The  invectives  of  Bolingbroke,  Pulteney,  and  Amhurst  in- 
creased every  day  in  audacity  and  vehemence.  Were  the 
countrymen  of  Hampden  and  Sidney,  they  cried,  to  become 
the  prey  of  a  despotic  parasite  ?  Would  the  descendants 
of  men  who  had  vindicated  with  their  blood  the  rights  of 
Englishmen,  consent,  for  a  few  guineas,  to  barter  away  the 
most  sacred  of  all  inheritances?  Had  Buckingham  and 
Strafford  been  forgotten  ?  Was  the  Court  of  Edward  II. 
to  be  revived  in  the  Court  of  George  II.  ?  W^hose  blood 
should  not  boil  to  see  the  benches  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons crowded  with  the  puppets  of  a  Royal  minion,  and 
tlie  House  of  Lords  teeming  with  the  lackeys  of  a  base 
upstart?  While  these  themes,  so  admirably  adapted  to 
catch  and  inflame  the  multitude,  continued  to  fill  the  pages 
of  the  Craftsman  week  after  week,  the  Opposition  were 
not  idle  within  the  walls  of  Parliament.  Every  measure 
which  the  Minister  brought  forward  was  traversed.  Every 
scheme  which  could  be  devised  for  embarrassing  him  was 
essayed.  They  had  already  interpreted  the  Treaty  of  Han- 
over as  a  base  and  impolitic  concession  to  the  Throne  and 
to  the  Electorate,  and  on  this  subject  they  continued,  dur- 
ing many  sessions,  to  harp.  They  then  opposed,  and  on 
this  occasion  opposed  with  justice,  the  proposal  for  main- 
taining a  large  body  of  Hessian  troops  with  English  pay. 
Then  they  pretended  that,  in  spite  of  the  sinking  fund,  the 
public  burdens  had  increased,  and  demanded  an  explana- 
tion.    A  loud  and  angry  controversy  ensued.     They  were 

7 


14G  ESSAYS. 

beaten.  Upon  that  they  requested  to  know  to  what  uses 
a  largo  sum  of  money  which  had  been  charged  for  secret 
service  had  been  applied.  They  were  answered.  Next 
they  attacked  the  Government  on  the  question  of  Gibral- 
tar. The  ministers  had,  they  said,  pledged  the  honor  of 
the  nation  that  that  fortress  should  be  ceded  to  Spain, 
and  they  assailed  them  for  not  keeping  their  promise. 
But  the  cession  of  that  fortress  would,  they  contended, 
be  detrimental  to  the  interest  of  England,  and  they  as- 
sailed them  for  having  made  it ;  taunting  them  with  false- 
hood on  the  one  hand,  and  with  treachery  on  the  oth- 
er. As  soon  as  the  Treaty  of  Seville  had  set  this  question 
at  rest,  they  shifted  their  ground,  and  struck  at  Walpolo 
on  another  side.  They  moved  for  leave  to  bring  in  a  Bill 
which  should  disable  all  persons  who  had  any  pension,  or 
any  office  held  in  trust  for  them  from  the  Crown,  from  sit- 
ting in  Parliament,  and  they  proposed  that  every  member 
should,  on  taking  his  scat,  make  oath  that  he  enjoyed  no 
such  preferment.  Defeated  on  this  point  by  a  skilful  ma- 
noeuvre on  the  part  of  Walpole,  they  raised  a  cry  that  the 
French  were  repairing  the  fortifications  and  harbor  of  Dun- 
kirk.   A  long  and  singularly  intemperate  debate  followed.* 

*  At  this  debate  Montesquieu,  then  on  a  visit  to  Enghind,  was  pres- 
ent, and  has  left  in  his  "Notes  sur  TAngleterre"  a  curious  account 
of  it.  As  the  passage  appears  to  have  escaped  the  notice  not  only 
of  Bolingbroke's  biographers,  but  of  Coxe  and  Lord  Stanhope,  we 
will  transcribe  it:  "J'allais  avant-hicr  au  parlement  ^  la  chambre 
basse:  on  y  traita  de  I'affaire  de  Dunkerque.  Je  n'ai  jamais  vu  un 
si  grand  feu.  La  seance  dura  depuis  une  heure  apres  niidi  jusqu'a 
trois  heures  apres  minuit.  M.  Walpole  attaqua  Bolingbroke  de  la 
fa^on  la  plus  cruelle,  et  disait  qu'il  avait  mene  toute  cette  intrigue. 
Lc  Chevalier  Wyndham  le  defendit.  M.  Walpole  raconta  en  faveur 
de  Bolingbroke  I'histoire  du  paysan  qui,  passant  avec  sa  femme  sous 
uii  arbre,  trouva  qu'uii  homme  pendu  rcspirait  encore.    II  le  detacha 


LITEKARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLLVGBROKE.  14'7 

But  nothing  illiistratos  more  clearly  the  factious  and  vexa- 
tious spirit  of  these  malcontents  than  their  conduct  with 
regard  to  the  second  Treaty  of  Vienna.  During  several 
years  their  chief  cause  of  complaint  against  the  foreign 
I)olicy  of  Walpole  had  been  its  tendency  to  depress  Aus- 
tria and  to  exalt  France.  No  such  objection  could  now  be 
urged.  The  second  Treaty  of  Vienna  adjusted  the  scales 
exactly  as  the  Opposition  had  long  contended  that  they 
should  be  adjusted.  But  no  sooner  was  it  concluded  than 
it  was  assailed.  It  involved  us,  they  said,  in  a  meshwork 
of  treaties  and  guarantees.  It  necessitated  our  interference 
as  principals  in  any  rupture  which  might  take  place  among 
European  Powers.  And  yet,  as  islanders,  it  was  our  inter- 
est to  maintain  a  strictly  neutral  attitude  with  respect  to 
Continental  politics,  and  a  strictly  defensive  attitude  with 
regard  to  ourselves.  ^Vith  the  maintenance  of  the  balance 
of  power,  except  in  a  purely  subordinate  capacity,  we  had 
nothing  to  do.* 

But  it  was  not  till  the  spring  of  1733  that  the  ascen- 
dency which  the  Opposition  had  by  degrees  been  gaining; 
over  the  public  mind  became  fully  manifest.  In  that  year 
they  succeeded  in  shaking  the  Government  to  its  very 
foundations ;  in  that  year  they  all  but  succeeded  in  driving 
Walpole  in  ignominy  from  power.  It  is  nov/  generally 
allowed  that  the  Excise  scheme  was  one  of  the  wisest  and 
most  equitable  measures  which  ever  emanated  from  a 
British  financier.     It  infringed  no  right,  it  introduced  no 

ct  le  porta  chcz  lui :  il  reviiit.  II3  trouverent  le  lendemain  que  cet 
homme  leur  avait  volo  leurs  fourchettes.  lis  dirent :  il  ne  faut  pas 
s'opposcr  au  cours  de  la  justice,  il  le  faut  rappoiter  ou  nous  Tavoiis 
piis." 

*  See  tlie  Craftsman,  Nos.  ^42,  248,  251  ;  Coxe's  "Memoirs  of  Sir 
Robert  Walpole,"  vol.  i.,  p.  346. 


148  ESSAYS. 

innovation.  Its  burden  fell  lightly,  and  it  fell  equally. 
There  is  not  the  smallest  reason  for  supposing  that  Walpole 
contemplated  extending  its  operation  further  than  the  du- 
ties on  wine  and  tobacco.  That,  indeed,  he  expressly  stated, 
not  merely  in  his  public  speeches,  but  in  private  letters 
and  in  conversation.  The  benefits  accruing  from  it  would 
liave  been  immense.  It  would  have  enabled  the  Govern- 
ment to  check  the  frauds  by  which,  in  the  tobacco  trade 
alone,  the  revenue  was  annually  robbed  of  half  a  million 
sterling.  It  would  have  enabled  the  Exchequer  to  dis- 
pense with  the  Land-tax.  It  would,  by  converting  the 
duties  on  importation  into  duties  on  consumption,  have 
been  greatly  to  the  advantage  of  the  merchant  importer. 
It  would,  as  Walpole  justly  boasted,  have  tended  to  make 
London  a  free  port,  and,  in  consequence,  one  of  the  great- 
est centres  of  commerce  in  the  Avorld.  It  affected  in  no 
way  the  scale  of  prices  either  in  the  wholesale  or  retail 
markets.  But  the  Opposition  saw  at  a  glance  that  it  was 
a  measure  peculiarly  susceptible  of  distortion,  a  measure 
which,  in  their  controversy  with  the  Minister,  might,  by 
dint  of  a  little  sophistry,  be  turned  to  great  account.  And 
to  great  account  they  turned  it.  Aggravating  the  preju- 
dices which  already  existed  against  this  mode  of  taxation, 
and  boldly  assuming  that  the  proposed  excise  on  wine  and 
tobacco  was  the  prelude  to  a  general  excise,  they  drew  an 
appalling  picture  of  what  would,  they  said,  in  a  few  years 
be  the  condition  of  the  English  people.  Food  and  raiment, 
all  the  necessities  as  well  as  all  the  luxuries  of  life,  would 
be  taxed.  These  taxes  would  be  collected  by  armed  of- 
ficers who  would  constitute  a  standing  army,  and  this  odi- 
ous body  would  be  empowered  to  enter  and  ransack  private 
houses.  Trade  would  be  ruined.  Liberty  would  be  at  an 
end.     The  rights  of  a  free  people  would  be  the  sport  of  a 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLIXGBROKE.  149 

tyrannical  Monarch  at  tlie  head  of  a  tyrannical  Ministry. 
Magna  Charta  would  be  repealed.  The  Bill  of  Rights 
■would  be  a  dead  letter;  and  the  House  of  Commons  would 
be  abolished.  While  this  monstrous  rhodomontade  circu- 
lated among  the  vulgar,  other  arguments  less  extravagant, 
but  scarcely  less  absurd,  were  addressed  to  politer  politi- 
cians. In  a  few  weeks  the  object  of  the  Opposition  had 
been  gained.  From  the  Peak  to  the  Land's  End,  and  from 
the  Wrekin  to  the  Humber,  the  whole  country  was  in  a 
blaze.  Petitions  came  pouring  in.  The  Press  and  the  Pul- 
pit teemed  with  philippics.  Every  street  and  every  village 
resounded  with  cries  of  "  No  slavery,  no  excise,  no  wooden 
shoes."  One  fanatic  swore  that  he  would  have  Walpole's 
head.  A  turbulent  mob  forced  their  way  into  the  Lobby 
and  into  the  Court  of  Requests,  and  on  the  night  on  which 
the  Bill  passed,  the  First  Minister  was  in  imminent  peril 
of  encountering  the  fate  of  Dc  Witt.*  The  measure  be- 
came law,  but  the  temper  of  the  nation  was  such  that,  if 
the  provisions  of  the  Bill  had  been  carried  out,  tliey  could 
only  have  been  carried  out  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet, 
and  Walpole  was  therefore  reduced  to  the  ignominious 
necessity  of  abandoning  his  scheme.f  This  blow  he  never 
recovered. 

Elated  by  their  triumph,  the  Opposition  now  moved  for 
the  repeal  of  the  Septennial  Act,  a  motion  peculiarly  adapt- 
ed to  embarrass  the  Government,  and  peculiarly  calculated 
to  please  the  mob.  A  debate  ensued,  distinguished  even 
in  those  agitated  times  for  its  acrimony  and  intemperance. 

*  This  has  been  contradicted,  but  sec  particuUiriy  Lord  Ilervey's 
"  Memoirs,"  vol.  i.,  pp.  200,  201. 

f  For  the  whole  question  of  the  Excise  scheme,  see  the  Crafts- 
man from  October  28,  1T32,  where  it  is  first  discussed,  to  August  4, 
1733. 


150  ESSAYS. 

One  episode  in  tliat  debate  was  long  remembered.  The 
onslanght  made  by  Wyndham  on  Walpole,  and  the  reply 
in  wliicli  Walpole,  ignoring  Wyndliam,  struck  at  Boling- 
broke,  are  perhaps  the  finest  specimens  of  vituperative 
oratory  which  have  come  down  to  us  from  times  anterior 
to  Burke.  ]>ut  the  attempt  failed  ;  the  Act  remained  un- 
repealed. Parliament  was  shortly  afterwards  dissolved, 
and  Walpole,  with  a  majority  slightly  impaired,  weathered 
the  elections,  and  in  the  following  January  resumed  office 
for  another  seven  years. 

During  the  whole  of  the  period  of  which  we  have  been 
speaking,  the  period,  that  is  to  say,  extending  from  the 
Parliament  which  met  in  January,  1728,  to  the  Parliament 
which  met  in  January,  1735,  Bolingbroke  was  the  soul 
and  author  of  almost  every  movement  on  the  part  of  the 
Opposition.  It  was  Bolingbroke  who  pointed  out  in  what 
way  the  affair  of  Gibraltar  might  be  utilized.  It  was  Bol- 
ingbroke who  originated  the  outcry  about  Dunkirk.  It 
was  Bolingbroke  who  directed  the  attack  on  the  Excise 
scheme.  It  was  Bolingbroke  who  suggested  the  repeal  of 
the  Septennial  Act.  Popular  report  assigned  to  his  dicta- 
tion the  ablest  of  Wyndham's  speeches.  So  notorious, 
indeed,  was  the  influence  exercised  by  him  on  the  councils 
of  the  Opposition,  that  Walpole  constantly  taunted  them 
with  being  his  mouthpieces,  his  creatures,  and  his  tools. 
Nor  was  this  all.  With  his  pen  he  was  indefatigable. 
Ilis  first  contribution  to  the  Craftsman  appeared  on  the 
27th  of  January,  1727.  It  was  entitled  "The  Vision  of 
Camelick,"  and  is,  under  the  disguise  of  an  Eastern  fable, 
a  virulent  attack  on  the  despotism  of  Walpole,  on  the  com- 
plete subserviency  of  the  King  to  his  unprincipled  favorite, 
and  on  the  venality  of  electors.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
summer  of  1730  he  produced  a  singularly  luminous  and 


LITERARY  LITE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  151 

powerful  pamphlet — "  The  Case  of  Dunkirk  Considered."  * 
In  this  pamphlet  he  discusses  at  length  the  negotiations 
relative  to  the  demolition  of  that  harbor;  demonstrates  how 
necessary  it  was  to  the  interests  of  England  that  the  stipu- 
lations made  at  Utrecht  should  be  carried  out ;  and  not 
merely  taunts  the  Ministry  with  criminal  negligence  in  per- 
mitting the  infringement  of  such  stipulations,  but  attrib- 
utes their  conduct  to  a  base  desire  to  play  into  the  hands 
of  France.  With  contemporary  events  these  works  ceased 
to  interest;  but  between  August,  1730,  and  June,  1731, 
there  appeared  in  the  Craftsman,  under  the  signature  of 
''  Humphrey  Oldcastle,"  a  series  of  essays  which  have  long 
survived  the  controversies  which  inspired  them.  These 
were  the  "Hemarks  on  the  History  of  England."  Boling- 
broke  here  gives  a  bold  and  graphic  sketch  of  English  Con- 
stitutional history,  from  the  Conquest  to  the  meeting  of 
the  Long  Parliament.  In  the  course  of  his  work,  he  ad- 
vances several  ingenious  theories  which  were  not  lost  on 
Hume  and  Hallam :  his  occasional  reflections  are  suggest- 
ive and  happy,  and  his  pages  teem  with  those  acute  obser- 
vations which  have,  in  the  "  Discorsi"  of  Machiavelli  and  in 
the  "lleflexions"  of  Montesquieu,  delighted  succeeding 
generations  of  thoughtful  men.  But  it  is  not  as  serious 
contributions  to  political  philosophy  that  these  Essays 
were  intended  to  be  judged;  their  didactic  value  was  a 
value  purely  accidental.  The  immediate  purpose  with 
which  they  were  written  was  not  to  trace  the  history  of 
Constitutional  government,  but  to  convey  satire  under  the 
form  of  analogue.  Particular  epochs,  and  particular  inci- 
dents in  the  history  of  past  times,  become,  in  the  bands  of 
their  skilful  delineator,  counterparts  of  the  history  of  the 

*  Reprinted  in  "A  Collection  of  Political  Tracts,"  published  anony- 
mously in  1748. 


152  ESSAYS. 

present :  the  Court  of  the  Plantagcncts,  of  the  Tndors,  of 
the  Stuarts,  reflects  the  Court  of  the  House  of  Hanover; 
and  tlie  Ministers  who  invaded  popular  rights  in  tlie  reign 
of  Richard  or  Charles  transform  themselves  into  the  Min- 
isters who  are  invading  these  rights  in  the  reign  of  George 
II.  In  the  person  of  Wolsey  and  Buckingham,  for  exam- 
ple, he  paints  and  assails  Walpole.  In  the  person  of  Eliz- 
abeth Woodville  he  draws  Queen  Caroline ;  in  the  person 
of  Richard  II.  he  depicts  her  husband.  In  his  pictures  of 
the  reigns  of  Edward  III.  and  Elizabeth  he  satirizes  by 
contrast,  as  in  his  pictures  of  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  he 
satirizes  directly,  the  character,  conduct,  and  Court  of 
George  II.  The  skill  with  which  he  contrives  to  convert 
the  reign  of  Elizabeth  into  an  analogue  of  the  reign  of 
Anne,  and  the  reign  of  Elizabeth's  contemptible  successor 
into  an  analogue  of  the  reigns  of  the  two  first  Georges,  is 
really  wonderful.  The  virulence  and  audacity  of  these 
diatribes,  which  their  author  had  the  front  to  define  as 
"  a  few  Inoffensive  remarks  on  the  nature  of  liberty  and  of 
faction,"  alarmed  the  Government,  and  were  of  immense 
service  to  the  Opposition.  Their  sentiments  delighted  the 
vulgar,  their  inimitable  style  fascinated  the  polite. 

It  was  soon  known  that  Bolingbroke  was  the  author. 
The  incidents  of  his  public  life  were  still  fresh  in  the  mem- 
ory of  thousands,  and,  in  the  paper  war  which  these  Es- 
says excited,  his  character  was  very  severely  handled.  But 
against  his  polemical  skill,  his  impudence,  and  his  mendac- 
ity truth  was  powerless.  The  juster  the  charges  advanced, 
the  more  ridiculous  they  seemed  to  become.  The  strono*- 
er  the  case  against  him,  the  more  unanswerable  appeared 
his  apology.  Examples  of  his  unscrupulous  dexterity  in 
controversy  are  to  be  found  in  his  "Twenty-fourth  Let- 
ter" and  in  his  "Final  Answer  to  the  Craftsman's  VIndl- 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  163 

cation,"  a  pamphlet  in  wliicli  he  reviews  and  defends  those 
circumstances  in  liis  career  whicli  had  justly  exposed  him 
to  the  taunts  of  his  adversaries.  In  September  of  the  fol- 
lowing year  he  wrote  three  papers  on  the  Policy  of  the 
Athenians,  in  which  he  drew  a  series  of  ingenious  parallels 
between  portions  of  Greek  and  portions  of  English  history, 
on  the  same  principle  and  with  the  same  objects  as  the 
"Remarks  on  English  History."* 

The  nation  now  began  to  show,  by  very  unequivocal 
symptoms,  that  these  writings  had  not  been  without  ef- 
fect. The  popularity  of  Walpolc  visibly  declined.  His 
foreign  and  home  policy  were  sharply  criticised.  Many 
who  had  up  to  this  time  pocketed  their  bribes  and  held 
their  peace,  grew  moody  and  scrupulous.  Young  men 
talked  republicanism,  and  old  men  grumbled.  At  last 
popular  discontent  became  articulate.  The  tremendous 
storm,  which  convulsed  the  country  during  the  period  of 
the  Excise  Bill,  gathered  and  burst.  The  Government  tot- 
tered to  its  base,  and  before  Walpole  could  recover  him- 
self his  indefatigable  opponent  was  again  in  the  field. 
The  "  Dissertation  upon  Parties,"  commencing  in  October, 
1733,  and  ending  in  December,  1734,  is,  with  the  exception 
of  the  "  Letters  of  Junius,"  beyond  question  the  finest  se- 
ries of  compositions  which  the  political  controversies  of 
the  eighteenth  century  inspired.  Nothing  equal  to  them 
had  ever  appeared  before,  nothing  superior  to  them  has 
ever  appeared  since.  Their  diction  is  magnificent,  their 
matter  rich  and  various,  their  method  admirable.  Seldom 
have  the  baser  passions  caught  with  such  exquisite  skill 

*  These  papers  constitute  Nos.  324,  S25,  and  32G  of  the  Crafts- 
man, and  have  been  reprinted  in  the  "  Political  Tracts."  We  may 
here  take  the  opportunity  of  observing  that  the  papers  contributed 
by  Bolingbrokc  to  that  periodical  were  marked  "  0." 


154  ESSAYS. 

the  accents  of  tlieir  nobler  sisters;  seldom  has  satire,  even 
in  verse,  assumed  a  garb  so  splendid.  In  a  series  of  nine- 
teen letters,  preceded  in  their  collected  form  by  an  ironical 
dedication  to  Walpolc,  lie  traces  the  history  of  the  two 
great  parties  which,  since  the  days  of  the  Stuarts,  had  di- 
vided English  politics ;  points  out  how,  on  the  accession  of 
AVilliam  III.,  those  two  parties  ceased  to  represent  princi- 
ples; how,  since  then,  they  had  degenerated  into  mere  fac- 
tions ;  and  how  these  factions  would,  but  for  the  arts  of  men 
whose  interest  it  was  to  keep  them  alive,  have  long  since 
been  extinguished.  The  whole  worlc,  under  the  disguise 
of  a  patriotic  protest  against  misgovernment,  against  stand- 
ing armies  in  time  of  peace,  against  corruption,  against  mis- 
ajtpropriation  of  public  money,  against  officious  interfer- 
ence with  foreign  politics,  is  a  malignant  and  ferocious 
attack  on  Walpole  and  on  Walpole's  coadjutors.  But  the 
spirit  it  breathes  is  so  noble,  the  principles  it  advocates  so 
exalted,  that  we  seem,  as  avc  surrender  ourselves  to  the 
charm  of  its  eloquent  rhetoric,  to  be  listening  to  the  voice 
of  one  not  unworthy  to  be  the  prophet  of  Virtue  and  Lib- 
erty. The  Dedication  is  superb.  It  is  in  the  best  vein  of 
Chatham  and  Junius,  but  it  is,  in  declamatory  grandeur,  su- 
perior to  anything  which  has  descended  to  us  from  Chat- 
ham, as  it  is,  in  polished  invective,  equal  to  anything  which 
could  be  selected  cither  from  the  Letters  to  Grafton  or  the 
Letters  to  Bedford.  From  a  polemical  point  of  view,  the 
value  of  this  work  was  inestimable.  It  not  only  dealt  Wal- 
pole a  series  of  blows  which  fell  with  fearful  precision  on 
those  parts  where  he  was  most  vulnerable,  but  it  furnished 
his  opponents  with  new  elements  of  strength.  The  Oppo- 
sition was  composed,  as  we  have  seen,  of  advanced  Tories, 
of  moderate  Tories,-  of  a  few  Jacobites,  of  a  large  and  dis- 
contented clique  of  Whigs;  of  bodies  of  men,  that  is  to 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  155 

say,  whose  political  creeds  were  entirely  at  variance,  and 
whose  sole  bond  of  nnion  was  hostility  to  Walpole.  These 
malcontents  were  therefore  perpetually  torn  with  schisms. 
Their  alliance  was  radically  and  essentially  unnatural.  They 
were  friends  by  accident,  they  were  enemies  on  principle. 
A  common  feud  held  them  together,  and  mutual  feuds 
kept  them  apart.  In  these  differences  lay  the  security  of 
Walpole,  and  to  compose  these  differences  was  one  of  the 
chief  objects  of  Bolingbroke's  political  writings.  Hence 
arose  his  anxiety  to  obliterate  party  prejudice,  hence  his 
tirades  against  faction,  hence  those  magnificent  doctrines 
which  were  first  promulgated  in  the  "  Dissertation  upon 
Parties,"  and  afterwards  developed  in  the  "  Patriot  King," 
doctrines  which  constituted  the  creed  of  the  so-called  Pa- 
triots, and  which,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  were  destined 
to  exercise  no  small  influence  on  political  opinion  during 
several  generations. 

But  it  is  now  time  to  contemplate  Bolingbroke  in  another 
character.  "We  enter  his  country-house  at  Dawley :  the 
scene  changes  as  if  by  magic ;  we  are  in  a  different  world. 
The  restless  and  acrid  controversialist  is  transformed  into 
the  most  delightful  of  social  companions.  The  opponent 
of  Walpole  disappears  in  the  friend  of  Pope  and  Swift. 
The  coadjutor  of  Pulteney  and  Amhurst  is  lost  in  the  gen- 
erous and  discriminating  patron  of  wit  and  genius.  Wo 
are  no  longer  in  the  midst  of  men  who  have  been  indebted 
to  history  for  a  precarious  existence  in  the  annals  of  biog- 
raphy, but  in  the  midst  of  men  whose  names  are  as  famil- 
iar to  us  as  the  names  of  our  own  kindred.  Tradition  has, 
in  truth,  left  us  few  pictures  more  charming  than  the  life 
of  Bolingbroke  at  Dawley.  In  this  beautiful  retreat,  the 
site  of  which  may  still  be  discerned,  he  endeavored  to  per- 


1C6  ESSAYS. 

suade  himself  and  Iiis  contemporaries  that  he  had  at  last 
attained  what  the  sages  of  antiquity  pronounced  to  be  the 
climax  of  human  happiness;  and,  if  happiness  could  con- 
sist in  what  is  external  to  the  mind  of  those  who  court  it, 
Bolingbrokc  had  assuredly  every  reason  to  congratulate 
himself.  He  divided  his  time  between  his  studies,  his 
friends,  and  the  innocent  recreations  of  country  life.  He 
planted  and  beautified  his  grounds,  he  shouldered  a  prong 
and  assisted  his  haymakers.  He  subsisted  on  the  plainest 
fare.  lie  amused  himself  with  covering  his  summer-houses, 
as  lie  had  done  before  at  La  Source,  with  texts  from  the 
Latin  Classics,  and,  to  keep  up  the  illusion,  he  contracted 
with  a  painter  to  cover  the  walls  of  his  entrance-hall  with 
pictures  of  rural  implements.  His  correspondence — and 
his  correspondence  at  this  period  forms  one  of  the  most 
pleasing  portions  of  our  epistolary  literature — is  that  of  a 
man  at  peace  with  liimself  and  at  peace  with  fortune.  So 
studiously  has  he  concealed  the  political  schemes  in  which 
he  was,  as  we  have  already  seen,  simultaneously  engaged, 
that  it  would,  we  believe,  be  difficult  to  find  in  these  let- 
ters a  single  hint  either  of  his  manoeuvres  against  Walpole, 
or  even  of  his  connection  with  the  Craftsman.  How  close- 
ly he  concealed  his  political  writings  is  shown  by  the  fact 
that  Swift,  in  a  letter  to  Pope,  dated  May  12,  1735,  did  not 
know  that  Bolingbroke  had  written  the  "  Dissertation  upon 
Parties."  It  is,  indeed,  scarcely  credible  that,  at  a  time 
when  his  philippics  against  the  Government  had  arrived 
at  their  climax  of  intemperance  and  malignity,  at  a  time 
when  he  was  straining  every  nerve  for  a  place  on  the  Op- 
position benches,  he  could  address  Swift  in  a  strain  like 
this : 

"  Wc  arc  both  in  the  decliue  of  life,  my  dear  Dean  ;  wo  sliall,  of 
course,  grow  every  year  more  indifferent  to  it  and  to  the  affairs  and 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  157 

interests  of  a  system  out  of  which  we  are  soon  to  go.  The  decay  of 
passion  strengthens  philosophy,  for  passion  may  decay  and  stupidity 
not  succeed.  Is  it  a  misfortune,  think  you,  that  I  rise  at  this  liour 
refreshed,  serene,  and  calm  ?  that  the  past,  and  even  the  present  af- 
fairs of  life,  stand  like  objects  at  a  distance  from  me,  where  I  can 
keep  off  the  disagreeables  so  as  not  to  be  strongly  affected  by  them, 
and  from  whence  I  can  draw  the  others  nearer  to  me." 

At  Dawley  Bolingbroke  appears  to  have  kept  open  house. 
On  his  arrival  he  liad  at  once  hastened  to  renew  his  ac- 
quaintance, not  only  with  those  who  had  shared  with  him 
the  responsibilities  of  public  life,  but  with  those  literary 
friends  whose  society  was  perhaps  even  more  acceptable  to 
him.  Indifference  to  wit  and  genius  had,  in  truth,  never 
been  among  his  faults.  He  had  been  always  ready,  even 
when  party  strife  was  raging  most  violently,  to  forget  po- 
litical differences  in  the  nobler  amenities  of  human  inter- 
course. The  generous  hospitality,  which  he  had  before 
extended  to  Prior  and  Philipps,  was  now  extended  to 
those  eminent  men  whose  genius  has  cast  a  halo  round  the 
annals  of  the  two  first  Georges.  At  Dawley,  Arbuthnot 
forgot  his  ill  •  health  and  his  onerous  duties.  There  he 
poured  out  in  careless  discourse  the  fine  wit,  the  delicate 
humor,  the  learning,  the  mellow  wisdom,  which  liave,  in 
his  correspondence  and  satires,  been  the  delight  of  thou- 
sands. There  Gay's  artless  laugh  rang  loudest.  Hither,  in 
1726,  with  the  manuscript  of  "Gulliver's  Travels"  in  his 
pocket,  came  Swift ;  and  hither,  in  the  autumn  of  the  same 
year,  arrived  a  move  illustrious  guest.  At  Dawley  Voltaire 
was,  during  his  long  sojourn  among  us,  a  frequent  visitor. 
In  Bolingbroke's  library  he  studied  our  poetry,  our  science, 
and  our  philosophy,  revised  the  proof-sheets  of  the  "  Ilen- 
riade,"  sketched  the  finest  of  his  tragedies,  and  learned  to 
write  our  language  with  purity  and  vigor.     In  the  draw- 


158  ESSAYS. 

iiig-rooin  at  Dawley  lie  was  introduced  to  a  society  not 
less  liiil!iant  than  lie  liad  been  accustomed  to  sec  assembled 
in  the  Temple,  for  he  was  Bolingbrokc's  visitor  during 
those  liappy  months  in  wliich  for  the  last  time  Pope,  Swift, 
Arbuthiiot,  and  Gay  met  toj^ethcr  under  tlic  same  roof. 
Of  Voltaire's  more  important  obligations  to  his  English 
patron  wc  liavc  already  spoken,  lie  had  himself  so  lively 
a  sense  of  what  lie  owed  to  the  philosopher  of  La  Source 
and  Dawley,  that  lie  originally  intended  to  inscribe  the 
"  Ilenriadc  "  to  him.  This  intention  was  never  carried  out ; 
but  on  his  return  to  Paris  lie  dedicated  to  him,  in  very  flat- 
tering terms,  one  of  the  most  spirited  of  his  tragedies. 

But  there  was  another  friendship  cemented  at  Dawley, 
the  effects  of  which  will  be  appreciated  as  long  as  British 
literature  shall  endure.  The  relations  between  Bolingbroke 
and  Pope  form  one  of  the  most  interesting  episodes  in  the 
literary  history  of  the  eigliteentli  century.  They  appear 
to  have  been  brought  together  for  the  first  time  by  Swift, 
cither  in  the  winter  of  1713  or  in  the  spring  of  1714. 
They  were  apparently  on  intimate  terms  when  Bolingbroke 
left  England  in  1715.  On  his  return,  in  1723,  their  ac- 
quaintance was  renewed.  When  Bolingbroke,  in  the  March 
of  1725,  established  himself  at  Dawley,  the  two  friends 
became  almost  inseparable.  The  genius  of  Pope  had  at 
that  time  arrived  at  maturity.  His  intellectual  energy  was 
in  its  fullest  vigor.  The  "  Essay  on  Criticism  "  and  the 
"Rape  of  the  Lock"  had  placed  him  at  the  head  of  living 
English  poets.  The  proceeds  of  his  "  Homer "  had  put 
him  beyond  the  reach  of  pecuniary  embarrassment,  and 
had  thus,  by  removing  the  most  galling  of  all  obstacles, 
enabled  him  to  compete  for  the  most  splendid  of  all  prizes. 
lie  was  now  busy  with  his  "Miscellanies;"  the  "Miscella- 
nies" led  to  the  "  Dunciad,"  and  the  "Dunciad"  involved 


LITERARY  LITE  OF  LORD  BOLLXGBROKE.  159 

him  in  feuds  -which  unhinged  his  mind  if  they  did  not 
dwarf  his  powers.  llis  temper,  always  irritable,  grew 
every  day  more  acrimonious.  The  baser  emotions  of  his 
sensitive  nature  were  in  a  continual  state  of  malignant  ac- 
tivity. To  revenge  himself  on  a  rabble  of  scribblers,  whose 
opinions  were  not  worth  the  quills  which  inscribed  them, 
and  who,  but  for  him,  would  have  sunk  below  the  sound- 
ings of  antiquarianism,  became  the  serious  business  of  his 
life.  His  satire  loaded  with  ephemeral  scandal  and  noisome 
with  filth,  degenerated,  in  spite  of  its  brilliant  execution, 
into  a  mere  Grub-street  Chronicle.  Indeed,  it  seemed  at 
one  time  not  unlikely  that  the  most  popular  poet  of  the 
eighteenth  century  would  encounter  the  fate  of  Regnier 
and  Churchill.  From  this  degradation  he  was  rescued  by 
Bolingbroke.  By  Bolingbroke  his  genius  was  directed  to 
nobler  aims.  By  Bolingbroke  his  poetry  was  inspired 
with  loftier  themes.  It  was  he  who  raised  him  above  the 
passions  of  the  hour,  and  encouraged  him  to  aspire  to  a 
place  beside  Lucretius  and  Horace.  It  was  he  who  sketched 
the  plan  of  that  magnificent  work,  of  which  the  "  Essay  on 
Man,"  the  "  Moral  Essays,"  and  the  fourth  book  of  the 
"Dunciad"  are  only  fragments — a  work  which  would,  in 
all  probability,  had  the  health  and  energy  of  Pope  been 
equal  to  the  task,  have  been  the  finest  didactic  poem  in  the 
world. 

The  exact  extent  of  Pope's  obligations  to  Bolingbroke 
it  is  now  impossible  to  ascertain.  They  were,  in  all  likeli- 
hood, more  considerable  than  any  scrutiny,  however  mi- 
nute, of  what  remains  of  the  writings  and  correspondence 
of  the  two  friends  would  reveal.  For  the  influence  which 
]3olingbroke  exercised  on  his  contemporaries  was,  as  wo 
liavc  already  observed  in  speaking  of  his  relations  with 
Voltaire,  exercised  for  the  most  part,  like  that  of  the  phi- 


ICO  ESSAYS. 

losopliers  of  old,  iu  conversation.  From  the  very  first,  the 
attitude  of  Pope  towards  his  brilliant  companion  was  that 
of  a  reverent  disciple.  From  the  very  first,  Bolingbroke's 
extraordinary  powers  of  expression,  his  fiery  energy,  his 
haughty  and  aspiring  spirit,  his  robust  and  capacious  intel- 
lect, his  wide  and  varied  acquaintance  both  with  the  world 
of  books  and  the  world  of  men,  his  romantic  history,  his 
singularly  fascinating  manners,  his  magnificent  presence, 
cast  a  spell  over  the  delicate  and  sensitive  poet.  The  first 
fruit  of  their  intimacy  was  the  "Essay  on  Man."  That 
Pope  owed  much  of  the  subject-matter  of  this  poem  to 
Bolingbroke  is  notorious.  If  we  are  to  believe  Lord  Bath- 
urst,  he  owed  all.  "  Lord  Bathurst,"  says  Joseph  Warton, 
"  repeatedly  assured  me  that  he  had  read  the  whole  scheme 
of  the  Essay  in  the  handwriting  of  Bolingbroke,  and  drawn 
up  in  a  series  of  propositions  which  Pope  was  to  versify 
and  illustrate."  It  is  possible  that  this  document  may 
have  perished  among  the  papers  which  were,  we  know, 
destroyed  by  Pope  a  few  days  before  his  death.  Mr.  Mark 
Pattison,  in  his  "Introduction  to  the  Essay  on  Man,"  is  in- 
clined to  identify  the  work  to  which  Bathurst  alluded  with 
the  manuscript  of  the  "Fragments"  or  "Minutes  of  Es- 
says," which  occupy  the  fifth  quarto  volume  of  Boling- 
broke's  collected  works.  This  is  not  probable.  For  we 
learn  from  a  letter  in  Boswell's  "Johnson,"*  that  Bathurst 
made  the  same  statement  on  another  occasion,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  Mallet,  and  that  Mallet  himself  drew  attention  to 
it  as  a  singularly  interesting  piece  of  information  which 
was  altogether  new  to  him.  Now,  as  Mallet  was  the  edi- 
tor of  Bolingbroke's  works,  and  had  himself  printed  these 
Minutes  from  Bolingbroke's  own  manuscript,  it  is  clear 

*  See  Boswell's  "  Life  of  Johnson,"  Croker's  One  Volume  Edition, 
p.  635. 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLIXGBROKE.  101 

that  the  document  to  which  Bathnrst  alhided  could  not 
have  been  identical  wlih  documents  with  which  Mallet 
must  of  necessity  have  been  familiar.  The  connection  of 
the  Minutes  with  the  Essay  —  and  the  Minutes  had,  it 
should  be  remembered,  been  printed  ten  years  before  this 
conversation  was  held — is,  moreover,  so  obvious  that  Bath- 
urst,  interested  in  everything  that  concerned  Pope,  could 
scarcely  Lave  failed  to  inspect  them,  or  at  all  events  to  have 
been  apprised  of  their  contents.  Had  they  been  identi- 
cal with  the  manuscript  which  he  had  seen  on  Pope's 
desk,  the  circumstance  must  at  once  have  struck  him,  and 
be  would  have  hastened  to  corroborate  his  assertion  by 
pointing  to  the  proof.  Pope  may  therefore  have  received 
more  assistance  from  Bolingbroke  than  the  extant  writings 
of  Bolingbroke  indicate.  However  this  may  be,  the  Min- 
utes suffice  to  show  that  Pope  received  from  bis  friend  by 
far  the  greater  portion  of  the  material  of  the  poem — the 
general  outline,  the  main  propositions,  the  reasoning  by 
"which  these  propositions  are  established,  the  ethics,  the 
philosophy,  several  of  the  illustrations.  Indeed  he  some- 
times follows  his  master  so  closely  that  he  copies  his  very 
words  and  phrases.*     Bolingbroke  was  indefatigable  in 

*  It  is  somewhat  surprising  that  none  of  tlie  commentators  on  the 
"  Essay  on  Man  "  should  liave  taken  the  trouble  to  point  out  to  what 
extent  Pope  lias  availed  himself  of  the  "  Minutes."  The  parallel  pas- 
sages, for  example,  collected  by  Warton  and  Wakefield,  and  repro- 
duced by  Mr.  Eiwin,  by  no  means  exhaust  Pope's  obligations.  The 
germ,  indeed,  of  almost  every  doctrine  and  of  almost  every  idea  in  the 
E.ssay,  more  or  less  developed,  will,  on  careful  inspection,  be  found  in 
them.  Let  the  student  turn,  for  example,  to  the  following  references, 
and  compare  them  with  the  corresponding  passages,  which  will  at 
once  suggest  themselves,  in  Pope's  poem.  "  Bolingbroke,"  vol.  iii., 
pp.  384,  400,  401 ;  vol.  iv.,  pp.  1,  2,  3,  10,  11,  51-63,  159,  173,  310, 
820,  324,  326,  327,  329,  366,  379,  388,  389,  391,  398 ;  vol.  v.,  pp.  9,  36, 


1C2  ESSAYS. 

stimulating  Pope's  genius.  lie  was  always  at  his  side, 
lie  covered  reams  of  paper  with  disquisitions  intended  for 
his  guidance.  He  directed  his  studies;  he  held  intermina- 
ble conversations  with  him.  While  the  "  Essay  on  Man  " 
was  still  incomplete,  he  hurried  him  on  to  the  "  Moral  Es- 
says," and  while  the  "Moral  Essays"  were  in  progress  he 
suggested  the  "  Imitations  of  Horace."  These  attentions 
Pope  returned  with  a  devotion  half  pathetic,  half  ludicrous. 
The  genius  of  his  friend  he  had  long  regarded  with  super- 
stitious awe.  This  awe,  unimpaired  by  nearer  communion, 
was  now  mingled  with  feelings  of  gratitude  and  friendship. 
His  mind,  naturally  little  prone  either  to  credulity  or  illu- 
sion, became  the  prey  of  both.  His  reason,  on  ordinary 
occasions  shrewd  and  penetrating,  was  completely  subju- 

37,49,  55,94,95, 115.  The  passages  describing  the  state  of  Nature;  tlie 
oi-igiii  of  political  society;  the  origin  of  civil  societj';  of  government ; 
of  religion;  of  the  corruption  of  religion  ("Essay,"  E[)istle  iii.,  pp. 146- 
318);  the  harmony  of  the  universe  and  the  scale  of  being  (Epistle  i., 
pp.  234-294)  ;  man's  place  in  the  creation  (Epistle  i.,  pp.  33-130) ;  how 
man's  imperfections  are  necessary  for  his  happiness  (Epistle !.,  pp. 
190-232) ;  the  mutual  dependence  of  men  on  each  other  (Epistle  ii., 
pp.  240-2G0,  and  Epistle  iii.,  pp.  308-318)  ;  the  operation  of  self-love 
and  reason  (Epistle  ii.,  pp.  53-100) ;  of  reason  and  instinct  (Epistle 
iii.,  pp.  79-108);  God's  impartial  care  for  his  creatures  (Epistle  iii., 
pp.  21-48)  ;  the  nature  of  human  happiness  (Epistle  iv.,  pp.  77-372) 
— are  all  from  Bolingbrokc's  sketches  or  suggestions.  We  cannot 
stop  to  enter  further  into  this  most  interesting  question,  but  we  may 
notice  that  the  famous  quatrain  which  ends  "And  showed  a  Newton 
as  we  show  an  ape,"  was  derived  not  from  Palingenius,  as  all  the  com- 
mentators suppose,  but  from  Bolingbroke.  "  Superior  beings  who  look 
down  on  our  intellectual  system  will  not  find,  I  persuade  myself,  s'o 
great  a  difference  between  a  gascon  petit -maitre  and  a  monkej', 
whatever  partiality  we  may  have  for  our  own  species." — "  Philosoph- 
ical Works,"  vol.  iv.,  p.  3.  Bolingbroke,  it  may  be  added,  appears  to 
have  derived  it,  in  his  turn,  from  a  saying  attributed  to  Heraclitus. 
See  Plato's  "  Ilippias  Major,"  marg.,  p.  289. 


LITERARY  LITE  OF  LORD  BOLLVGBROKE.  163 

gated.  When  he  spoke  of  Bolingbroke,  it  was  by  no  means 
unusual  with  hira  to  employ  language  which  ordinary  men 
would  never  dream  of  applying  to  any  but  the  Supreme 
Being.  For  the  writings  of  his  friend  he  predicted  a  splen- 
did immortality.  Indeed  he  observed  more  than  once  that 
his  own  title  to  a  place  in  the  memory  of  the  world  found 
its  best  security  in  his  association  with  his  patron.  "  My 
verses,"  he  writes  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Bolingbroke,  "  in- 
terspersed here  and  there  in  the  noble  work  which  you  ad- 
dress to  me,  will  have  the  same  honor  done  them  as  those 
of  Ennius  in  the  philosophical  treatises  of  Tally."  So 
complete,  indeed,  was  the  ascendency  which  Bolingbroke 
had  gained  over  him,  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  ten 
consecutive  pages  in  his  correspondence  and  poetry,  be- 
tween 1729  and  1744,  in  which  a  discerning  eye  could  not 
detect  traces  of  Bolingbroke's  influence. 

In  the  spring  of  1735,  to  the  surprise  of  all  his  friends, 
Bolingbroke  suddenly  quitted  England.  His  motives  for 
taking  this  step  are  involved  in  great  obscurity.  Whatever 
tlicy  may  have  been,  it  seems  pretty  clear  that  they  were 
never  explained  to  the  satisfaction  of  those  who  were  most 
intimate  with  him.  It  was  conjectured  by  some  that  he 
was  again  in  communication  with  the  Pretender.  It  was 
conjectured  by  others  that  he  had  during  his  residence  at 
Dawley  been  intriguing  with  foreign  Ministers;  that  these 
intrigues,  having  come  to  the  ears  of  the  Government,  had 
furnished  them  with  a  handle  against  the  Opposition,  and 
that  the  leaders  of  the  Opposition  had  in  consequence  sug- 
gested the  propriety  of  his  ceasing  to  act  with  them. 
Grimoard  is  inclined  to  think  that  he  had  received  a  secret 
order  from  the  King  to  leave  the  country.'^-     Coxe  and 

*  Essai  Ilistoriquc  prefixed  to  the  "  Lettres  Ilistoriciue?,  "vol.  i., 
p.  I  GO. 


IGl  ESSAYS. 

M.  Remnsat  attributed  liis  exile  to  Walpole,  who  had,  tliey 
make  no  doubt,  obtained  conclusive  evidence  of  treasona- 
ble conduct.  From  his  own  correspondence  all  that  can 
be  gathered  is  this,  that  he  did  not  leave  England — we  are 
quoting  his  own  words — till  some  schemes  were  on  the  loom 
■which  made  him  one  too  many  even  to  his  most  intimate 
associates;  that  he  considered  he  had  been  treated  with 
disingenuousness  and  ingratitude,  that  lie  had  no  longer 
any  opportunity  of  being  useful  to  his  friends  and  his  coun- 
try, and  that  he  had  had  some  misunderstanding  with  Pulte- 
ncy.  "  My  part,"  he  wrote  to  Wyndhara,  "  is  over,  and 
he  who  remains  on  the  stage  after  his  part  is  over  deserves 
to  be  hissed  off."  Our  own  impression  is  that  he  perplexed 
with  mystery  what  really  admits  of  a  very  simple  inter- 
pretation. In  leaving  England  he  wished  to  figure  as  a 
patriot-martyr,  voluntarily  departing  into  honorable  exile. 
His  real  motives  were,  we  firmly  believe,  baiBed  ambition, 
ill-health,  and  pecuniary  embarrassment.  lie  was  weary, 
lie  was  disappointed.  The  results  of  the  general  election 
had  just  proved  that  he  had  nothing  to  expect  from  popu- 
lar favor.  The  retirement  of  Lady  Suffolk  had  recently 
deprived  him  of  his  only  hope  at  Court.  The  Whig  sec- 
tion of  the  Opposition  were,  in  spite  of  his  great  services, 
regarding  him  with  marked  disfavor.  Ue  had  recently 
brought  down  upon  them  two  scathing  philippics.  Indeed, 
Pulteney  had  frankly  told  him  that  his  presence  served 
rather  to  injure  than  to  benefit  the  common  cause.  Nor 
was  this  all.  llis  expenditure  at  Dawley  far  exceeded  his 
income.  He  was  already  involved  in  debt,  and  had  been 
reduced  to  the  ruinous  expedient  of  having  recourse  to 
usurers,  and  to  the  disagreeable  necessity  of  appealing  to 
private  friends.  To  the  Marquis  de  Matignon,  for  example, 
he  owed  two  thousand  pounds,  which  had  been  advanced 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  165 

without  security.  That  Pultcney  attributed  his  departure 
to  pecuniary  difficulties  is  certain.  Writing  to  Swift  in 
November,  1735,  he  says:  "You  inquire  after  Boling- 
broke,  and  when  he  will  return  from  France.  If  be  had 
listened  to  your  admonitions  and  chidings  about  economy, 
he  need  never  have  gone  there."  In  addition  to  this,  his 
wife's  health  was  bad,  and  his  own  was  breaking,  and  a 
change  to  a  milder  climate  was  desirable.  Such  is,  we 
venture  to  think,  the  solution  of  what  Mr.  Croker  used  to 
say  was  the  most  difficult  problem  in  Bolingbrokc's  biog- 
raphy. 

Angry  with  the  Government,  angry  with  the  Opposition, 
Bolingbroke  now  resolved  to  take  no  further  share  in  the 
controversies  which  were  raging  between  them.  He  had, 
he  said,  fulffilcd  his  duty ;  he  had  borne  his  share  in  the 
last  struggle  which  would  in  all  probability  be  made  to 
preserve  the  Constitution ;  he  feared  nothing  from  those 
he  had  oi)poscd ;  he  asked  nothing  from  those  he  had 
served.  Till  the  end  of  the  spring  he  was  in  Paris;  at 
the  beginning  of  the  autumn  we  find  him  settled  at  Chan- 
taloup,  in  Touraine.  This  delicious  retreat  had,  Saint- 
Simon  tells  us,  been  built  by  Aubigny,  the  favorite  of  the 
Princess  Orsini,  who  had  herself  superintended  its  erec- 
tion. Here  Bolingbroke  at  last  found  what  he  had  during 
so  many  troubled  years  been  affecting  to  seek.  At  Mar- 
cilly  his  studies  were  interrupted  and  his  repose  disturbed 
by  obloquy.  At  La  Source  he  had  been  on  the  rack  of 
expectancy  ;  at  Dawley  his  life  had  been  the  prey  of  fierce 
extremes.  Here  there  was  little  to  tempt  him  from  his 
books  and  his  dogs.  The  firm  alliance  between  Fleury 
and  Walpole  forbade  any  cabals  with  the  Cabinet  of  Ver- 
sailles. The  Stuarts  were  no  longer  in  France;  his  old 
allies  were  impotent  or  dead. 


ICO  ESSAYS. 

Under  these  favorable  circumstances  he  determined  to 
dedicate  the  rest  of  his  life  to  the  completion  of  two  works, 
which  he  had  long  been  meditating,  and  on  which  liis  fame 
was  to  rest.  The  first  was  to  be  a  work  which  shonld  es- 
tablish metaphysical  science  on  an  entirely  new  basis.  It 
was  to  embody  in  a  regular  system  what  he  had  hitherto 
communicated  only  in  detached  fragments.  It  was  to  de- 
fine the  limits  of  the  Knowablc,  to  strip  metaphysics  of'' 
jargon  and  empiricism,  and  to  make  them  useful  by  mak- 
ing them  intelligible.  The  other  was  to  be  a  History  of 
Europe,  from  the  Treaty  of  the  Pyrenees  to  the  conclusion 
of  the  negotiations  at  Utrecht.  Neither  design  was  car- 
ried out;  portions  of  both  survive.  His  time  was,  how- 
ever, well  employed,  for  he  produced  during  this  period  of 
ills  life  the  most  popular  of  his  writings.  At  the  begin- 
ning of  the  winter  of  1735  he  began  the  "Letters  on  the 
Study  of  History."  These  Letters,  eight  in  number,  were 
addressed  to  Lord  Cornbury,  a  young  nobleman  whose  un- 
blemished character  and  faultless  taste  elicited  the  most 
exquisite  compliment  which  Pope  ever  paid.  The  work 
divides  itself  into  two  parts.  The  first  five  Letters  point 
out  that  history,  to  be  studied  to  advantage,  must  be  stud- 
ied philosophically  ;  that  its  utility  lies  not,  as  pedants  and 
antiquaries  suppose,  in  the  investigation  of  details  and  par- 
ticulars, but  in  the  lessons  which  it  teaches,  the  hints  which 
it  gives.  Its  value  is  a  practical  value.  It  should  enable 
us  to  anticipate  action.  It  should  teach  us  to  profit  from 
experiment.  It  should  illustrate  historical  phenomena  in 
their  ultimate  effects,  and  in  their  mutual  relations ;  for  in 
the  brief  span  of  our  individual  existence  we  can  view 
events  only  in  course  of  evolution,  incomplete,  isolated. 
Nothing  can  bo  more  erroneous  than  to  suppose  that  the 
chief  end  of  historical  study  is  to  acquire  information.    Its 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  167 

true  end  is  to  mould  and  temper  the  character  and  the  in- 
tellect, lie  then  discusses  the  credibility  of  the  early  his- 
tory of  the  Greeks  and  the  Jews,  concludes  that  the  author- 
ities for  both  are  equally  imtrustworthy,  and  hurries  on, 
after  some  desultory  remarks  on  the  falsification  of  testi- 
mony, to  treat  of  the  annalists  of  later  times.  The  diction 
of  these  five  Letters  is  copious  and  splendid.  They  abound 
in  precepts  to  which  the  student  of  history  may  still  turn 
with  profit,  and  they  are  enriched  with  observations,  al- 
ways lively,  often  suggestive,  and  sometimes  new.  Their 
worst  fault  is  a  tendency  to  redundancy  and  vagueness, 
N,  their  principal  deficiency  lack  of  learning,  their  radical  vice 
superficiality.  In  the  last  three  Letters  he  sketches  the 
course  of  events  in  Europe  between  the  beginning  of  the 
sixteenth  century  and  the  end  of  Anne's  reign.  The  eighth 
is  an  elaborate  defence  of  the  Treaty  of  Utrecht,  and  is 
composed  with  extraordinary  energy  and  eloquence.  It 
bears,  indeed,  little  resemblance  to  a  letter.  It  is  a  mag- 
nificent harangue,  instinct  with  fire  and  passion.  Excise  a 
few  paragraphs,  substitute  My  Lords  for  My  Lord,  and  the 
reader  is  perusing  a  masterpiece  of  parliamentary  oratory.^ 
He  has  before  him  the  relic  for  which  Pitt  and  Brougham 
would  have  sacrificed  the  lost  books  of  Livy  ;  he  has  before 
him  in  everything  but  in  title  the  speech  of  Bolingbroke. 
No  one  who  peruses  the  work  with  any  care  could,  we 
think,  doubt  this,  and  assuredly  no  one  after  perusing  it 
would  say  that  when  tradition  placed  Bolingbroke  at  the 
head  of  contemporary  orators  tradition  erred  in  its  esti- 
mate of  his  powers.  In  our  opinion  it  is,  read  as  a  speech, 
superior  to  any  speech  which  has  come  down  to  us  from 
those  times. 

AVhile  he  was  still  busy  with  these  works  he  addressed 
to  his  friend  Lord  Bathurst  the  "  Letter  on  the  true  Use 


108  ESSAYS. 

of  Study  and  Retirement,"  a  sliort  treatise  on  llic  model 
of  Seneca  when  Seneca  is  most  tedious — a  treatise  in  wliicli  > 
all  that  is  new  is  false  and  all  that  is  true  is  trite. 

Of  a  very  different  character  was  the  "  Letter  on  the 
Spirit  of  Patriotism."  This  majestic  declamation  was  in- 
scribed to  Lord  Lyttelton,  who  had  recently  become  a  con- 
spicuous figure  at  Leicester  House,  and  was  the  rising  hope 
of  that  section  of  the  Opposition  whose  political  creed 
had  been  learned  from  the  Craftsman.  Li  none  of  his 
works  arc  the  peculiar  beauties  of  Bolingbroke's  diction  , 
more  strikingly  displayed.  In  none  of  his  works  do  the 
graces  of  rhetoric  and  the  graces  of  colloquy  blend  in  more 
exquisite  union.  The  passage  in  which  he  points  out  the 
responsibilities  entailed  on  all  who  have  inherited  the  right 
to  a  place  in  the  councils  of  their  country  has  often  been  '- 
deservedly  admired.  Not  less  spirited  and  brilliant  is  the 
picture  of  St.  Stephen's  under  Walpole ;  and  we  are  not 
sure  that  it  would  be  possible  to  select  from  the  pages  of 
Burke  anything  finer  than  the  dissertation  on  Eloquence.     -- 

Meanwhile  the  pleasures  of  retirement  were  beginning 
to  pall  on  him.  He  continued,  indeed,  to  assure  his  friends 
that,  dead  to  the  world,  he  was  dead  to  all  that  concerned 
it ;  but  his  friends  soon  discovered  that  his  sublime  indif- 
ference coexisted  with  the  keenest  curiosity  about  public 
affairs.  It  was  observed  that  though  nothing  was  worth 
his  attention  nothing  escaped  it;  and  that  though  he  con- 
tinued to  indulge  in  lofty  jargon  about  Cleanthes  and  Zeno, 
he  was  in  constant  communication  with  the  malcontents  of 
Leicester  House.  The  truth  is,  that  the  passion  which  had 
during  forty  years  tortured  his  life  still  burned  as  fiercely 
as  ever.  Philosophy  had  left  him  where  it  found  him ; 
but  political  ambition  had  never  for  one  instant  relaxed  its 
grasp.     It  had  been  his  tyrant  at  twenty ;  it  was  destined 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  169 

to  be  his  tyrant  at  seventy;  it  had  filled  his  middle  age 
with  unrest  and  unhappiness ;  it  was  to  fill  his  old  age 
with  bitterness  and  disappointment.  At  the  end  of  Jane, 
1738,  he  was  in  England.  Ilis  hopes  were  high.  His 
prospects  had  never  looked  so  promising  since  the  spring 
of  1723.  The  death  of  the  Queen  had  removed  one  of 
the  most  influential  and  implacable  of  his  opponents.  The 
popularity  of  "NValpole  was  waning.  A  portentous  crisis 
in  European  affairs  was  approaching.  The  health  of  the 
King  was  precarious.  The  heir-apparent,  at  open  war  with 
his  father  and  with  his  father's  Ministers,  was  at  the  head 
of  the  Opposition.  Every  week  that  young  and  ardent 
band,  on  whose  minds  the  doctrines  of  the  "Dissertation 
,  on  Parties"  had  made  a  deep  impression,  were  gaining 
strength.  Of  these  enthusiasts  there  was,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Pitt,  scarcely  any  one  who  did  at  this  time  not  re- 
gard Bolingbroke  with  superstitious  reverence.  The  ma- 
jority of  them  were,  indeed,  his  acknowledged  disciples. 
He  was  not,  it  is  true,  on  cordial  terms  cither  with  Pultency 
or  Carteret;  but  no  man  stood  higher  in  the  favor  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  and  on  the  Prince  of  Wales  all  eyes  were 
now  turning  with  eager  interest. 

It  would,  we  believe,  be  impossible  to  find  in  the  writ- 
ings of  those  who  have  illustrated  the  private  life  of  princes, 
from  Suetonius  to  Mr.  Greville,  a  character  so  completely 
despicable  as  that  of  Frederick  Lewis.  One  who  had  for 
many  years  observed  him  narrowly,  has  told  us  that  he 
was  unable  to  detect  the  shadow  of  a  virtue  in  him.  His 
kindred  regarded  him  with  horror  and  disgust.  He  had 
even  exhausted  the  forbearance  and  long-suffering  of  ma- 
ternal love,  and  the  fact  that  he  had  survived  infancy  was 
considered  by  both  his  parents  to  be  the  greatest  calamity 
which  had   over  befallen  them.      Assuredly  no  man  ob- 


no  ESSAYS. 

served  the  infinintics  of  bis  fcllow-crcaturcs  witli  a  more 
indulgent  eye  than  the  cider  Walpole;  but  Walpole  could 
never  speak  of  Frederick  without  a  torrent  of  invectives. 
"He  was,"  be  said,  "a  poor,  feeble,  irresolute,  false,  lying, 
dishonest,  contemptible  wretch."  In  temper  he  belonged 
to  that  large  class  who  are  governed  entirely  by  impulse, 
men  of  weak  judgment  and  strong  sensibilities.  But  with 
all  the  defects,  he  had  none  of  the  virtues  which  such  peo- 
ple frequently  display.  The  evil  in  his  nature  was,  if  wc 
are  to  credit  llervey,  without  alloy,  lie  exhibited  a  com- 
bination of  vices  such  as  rarely  meet  in  the  same  person, 
and  it  was  observed  that  in  Frederick  every  vice  assumed 
its  most  odious  shape,  lie  was  a  wastrel  without  a  spark 
of  generosity,*  and  a  libertine  without  a  grain  of  senti- 
ment. When  anger  possessed  him,  its  effect  was  not  to 
produce  the  emotions  which  such  a  passion  usually  pro- 
duces in  our  sex,  but  to  excite  emotions  similar  to  those 
which  a  slight  awakes  in  the  breast  of  a  superannuated 
coquette.  He  became  charged  with  petty  spite.  He  watch- 
ed with  patient  malice  for  every  opportunity  of  ignoble 
retaliation.  His  face  wore  smiles,  his  tongue  dropped 
venom.  In  mendacity,  poltroonery,  and  dirtiness  he  was 
not  excelled  either  by  his  late  secretary  Bubb  Dodington, 
or  by  his  recent  undcr-secretary  Mallet.  Even  that  part  of 
his  conduct  in  which  traces  of  better  things  would  seem  at 
first  sight  to  be  discernible,  will  be  found  on  nearer  inspec- 
tion to  be  of  the  same  texture  with  the  rest.  He  patronized 
literature  because  his  father  and  his  father's  Minister  de- 
spised it;  he  became  a  Patriot  to  fill  his  pockets;  he  sup- '' 
ported  popular  liberty  to  vex  his  family.  Ambition  in  its 
nobler  forms  was  unintelligible  to  him.     Of  any  capacity 

*  Horace  Walpole  ("  Memoirs  of  George  II.,"  vol.  1.,  p.  77)  tells  us 
th-nl  "generosity  wa3  his  best  qnalltj."    Could  contempt  go  further? 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.    1*71 

for  the  duties  of  public  life  be  never,  so  far  as  we  can  dis- 
cover, evinced  a  single  symptom.  His  mind  was  jejune 
and  feeble,  bis  parts  beneatb  contempt.  Indeed,  botb 
nature  and  education  bad  done  tbeir  best  to  make  this 
unhappy  youth  an  object  of  pity  to  those  who  wished  him 
well,  and  a  subject  for  perpetual  rejoicing  to  those  who 
wished  him  ill. 

Such  was  Frederick  as  he  appeared  to  impai'tial  observ- 
ers, but  such  was  not  the  Frederick  of  Bolingbroke  and  the 
Patriots.  By  them  he  was  held  up  to  public  veneration  as 
a  being  witliout  blemish,  by  them  he  was  proclaimed  to  be 
the  Messias  of  a  political  millennium.  Under  his  wise  and 
beneficent  sway,  corruption,  misgovcrnment,  and  faction 
were  to  disappear:  in  his  person  an  ideal  ruler  was  to  be 
found  at  the  head  of  an  ideal  Ministry ;  for  the  splendor 
of  his  character  would  be  reflected  on  all  who  came  in  con- 
tact with  him.  Every  week  liis  levee  at  Norfolk  House 
became  more  crowded  ;  every  day  his  vanity  and  insolence 
became  more  outrageous.  At  last  his  head  was  completely 
turned.  He  set  his  father  openly  at  defiance.  He  ap- 
])ealed  to  the  people.  All  this  was  the  work  of  Boling--^ 
broke.  From  the  very  first  he  had  labored  to  widen  the 
breach  between  Frederick  and  the  King.  It  was  he,  in- 
deed, who  suggested  the  measure  which  made  their  breach 
public ;  it  was  he  who  now  labored  to  make  it  irreparable. 
And  his  policy  was  obvious.  It  was  to  detach  Frederick 
not  only  from  Walpole  and  from  Walpole's  adherents,  but 
from  that  section  of  the  Opposition  which  was  led  by  Pulte- 
ney  and  Carteret.  If,  on  the  event  of  the  King's  death, 
Pulteney  and  Carteret  stood  first  in  the  estimation  of  the 
successor  to  the  throne,  Bolingbroke  had,  as  he  well  knew, 
nothing  to  gain,  for  both  those  statesmen  had  long  regarded 
Iiim  rather  as  a  rival  than  as  an  ally.     But  if  at  that  crisis 


172  ESSAYS. 

he  had  succeeded  in  gaining  the  ascendency  over  Frederick, 
as  lie  had  ah'cady  gained  the  ascendency  over  Frederick's 
counsellors,  it  required  little  sagacity  to  foretell  that  in  a 
few  weeks  he  would  in  all  probability  be  at  the  head  of 
affairs,  lie  took  care,  therefore,  to  improve  every  advan- 
tage. He  courted  the  Prince  with  unvaried  assiduity,  both 
in  public  and  private.  He  descended  to  the  grossest  adu- 
lation. Indeed,  his  language  and  his  conduct  frequently 
bordered  on  the  abject.  To  this  period  in  his  career  is  to 
be  assigned  the  composition  of  the  "  Patriot  King,"  a  work  ' 
written  with  the  threefold  purpose  of  exalting  himself  in 
the  eyes  of  his  young  master,  of  making  the  Government 
odious  in  the  eyes  of  the  nation,  and  of  furnishing  the  Pa- 
triots with  a  war-cry  and  a  gospel. 

Of  all  Bolingbroke's  writings  this  treatise  was  the  most 
popular.  It  was,  on  its  publication  in  1749,  perused  with 
avidity  by  readers  of  every  class.  Poets  versified  its  senti- 
ments and  reflected  its  spirit.  Allusions  to  it  abound  in 
the  light  literature  of  those  times.  On  oratory  and  jour- 
nalism its  effect  was  in  some  degree  similar  to  that  which 
the  Romance  of  Lyly  had,  a  hundred  and  seventy  years  be- 
fore, produced  on  prose  diction  during  the  latter  years  of 
Elizabeth.  It  created  a  new  and  peculiar  dialect.  To  par- 
ley patriotism  became  an  accomplishment  as  fashionable 
in  political  circles  between  1749  and  1760  as  to  parley 
Euphuism  had  been  in  the  society  which  surrounded  the 
Great  Queen  between  1580  and  1600.  The  public  car 
was  wearied  with  echoes  of  Bolingbroke's  stately  rhetoric. 
Scarcely  a  week  passed  without  witnessing  the  appearance 
of  some  pamphlet  in  which  his  mannerisms,  both  of  tone 
and  expression,  were  copied  with  ludicrous  fidelity.  But. 
it  was  not  on  style  only  that  its  influence  was  apparent." 
For  some  years  it  formed  the  manual  of.  a  large  body  of 


LITEKARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  ITS 

^^enthusiasts.  From  its  pages  George  III.  derived  the  arti- , 
cles  of  his  political  creed.  On  its  precepts  Bute  modelled 
his  conduct.  It  called  into  being  the  faction  known  to 
our  fathers  as  the  King's  Friends.  It  undoubtedly  con- 
tributed, and  contributed  in  no  small  degree,  to  bring  about 
that  great  revolution  which  transformed  the  Toryism  of 
Filmcr  and  Rochester  into  the  Toryism  of  Johnson  and 
Pitt.* 

If  this  famous  essay  be  regarded  as  a  serious  attempt  to 
provide  a  remedy  for  the  distempers  under  which  the  State 
was  laboring,  it  is  scarcely  worth  a  moment's  consideration. 
It  is  mere  babble.  Its  proposals  are  too  ridiculous  to  be 
discussed,  its  arguments  too  childish  to  be  refuted.  Where 
bad  the  sublime  and  perfect  being,  whom  Bolingbroke  pro- 
poses to  invest  with  sovereignty,  any  counterpart  in  human 
experience  ?  How  is  the  power  of  the  Crown  to  be  at  once 
absolute  in  practice  and  limited  in  theory?  How  can  Par- 
liamentary Government  possibly  exist  without  parties,  and 

*  It  is  curious  to  observe  how  exactly  tlie  political  creed  of  John- 
son coincides  with  the  doctrines  preached  by  Bolingbroke.  "  He  as- 
serted," writes  Dr.  Maxwell,  in  an  account  of  some  conversations  he 
held  with  Johnson  in  1*770,  "the  legal  and  salutary  prerogatives  of 
the  Crown,  while  he  no  less  respected  the  Constitutional  liberties  of 
the  people:  Whiggism  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  he  said,  was  ac- 
companied by  certain  principles :  but  lattcrl}',  as  a  mere  party  dis- 
tinction under  Walpole  and  the  Pelhams,  was  no  better  than  the  pol- 
itics of  stock-jobbers  and  the  religion  of  infidels.  He  detested  the 
idea  of  governing  by  parliamentary  corruption,  and  asserted  that  a 
Prince  steadily  and  conspicuously  pursuing  the  interests  of  his  peo- 
ple could  not  fail  of  parliamentary  concurrence.  A  Prince  of  ability 
might  and  should  be  the  directing  soul  and  spirit  of  his  own  Admin- 
istration ;  in  short,  his  own  Minister,  and  not  the  mere  head  of  a  par- 
ty;  and  then,  and  not  till  then,  would  the  royal  dignity  be  respected," 
etc.  Sec  the  whole  passage,  Croker's  "  Boswell,"  royal  octavo  edition, 
p.  21G. 


^ 


m  ESSAYS. 

when  did  parties  ever  listen  to  the  voice  of  wisdom  when 
wisdom  opposed  interest?  Is  it  within  the  bounds  of  cred- 
ibility that  a  king,  who  is  potentially  an  absolute  monarch, 
will  consent  to  consider  himself  absolute  only  so  long  as 
he  acts  with  the  approbation  of  the  national  council,  and 
that  the  moment  the  national  council  pronounces  him  to 
be  guilty  of  error,  he  will  confess  that  his  prerogative  is 
limited?  IIow  is  the  narrow  spirit  of  party  to  transform 
itself  into  a  diffusive  spirit  of  public  benevolence  ?  These 
absurdities  become,  if  possible,  the  more  preposterous  when 
we  remember  that  the  ruler  contemplated  by  Bolingbroke 
was  no  other  than  his  miserable  disciple,  Frederick  Lewis  " 
— the  more  shameless  when  we  remember  that  he  had  him- 
self been  the  first  to  acknowledge  that  in  a  Constitution 
like  ours  the  extinction  of  party  would  involve  the  extinc- 
tion of  popular  liberty  —  the  more  monstrous  when  we 
know  that  he  was  at  heart  as  cynical  in  his  estimate  of 
humanity  as  Swift  and  La  Rochefoucault. 

But  if,  as  a  didactic  treatise,  the  "  Patriot  King "  is  a 
tissue  of  absurdities,  as  a  partj  pamphlet  it  is  a  master-  '■/ 
piece.     No  flattery  was,  as  Bolingbroke  well   knew,  too 
gross  for  Frederick.     No  theories  were  too  visionary  for 
those  hot-headed  and  inexperienced  youths  who  were  in 
the  van  of  the  Patriots,  and  to  those  fanatics  Bolingbroke 
was  particularly  addressing  himself.     This  was  not,  how- 
ever, his  only  aim.     Much  of  the  work  is,  like  the  Utopia 
of  More,  satire  nnd*^''  the  gniso,  of  didactic  fiction.     The 
picture  of  Bolingbroke's  political^millcnnium  is  an  oblique  , 
and  powci'ful  attack  on  Walpole^s  foreign  and  domestic  ' 
policy.     In  depicting  the  character  of  his  ideal  monarch,    If 
he  ridicules  by  implication  the  character  of  the  reigning 
monarch.     In  elevating  Frederick  into  a  demigod,  he  de- 
grades George  into  a  dotard,  and  Walpole  into  a  scheming 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  175 

knave ;  every  allusion  which  reflects  honor  on  Norfolk 
House  is  so  contrived  as  to  reflect  infamy  on  the  Court. 
Every  reform  which  is  to  mark  the  new  dispensation  brands 
by  allusion  some  abuse  in  the  old.  On  the  composition  of 
the  "Patriot  King,"  Bolingbroke  took  more  pains  than 
was  usual  with  him.  It  is  perhaps,  in  point  of  execution, 
his  most  finished  work.  But  style,  though  it  will  do  muchi- 
for  a  writer,  will  not  do  everything.  Indeed,  Bolingbroke's 
splendid  diction  frequently  serves  to  exhibit  in  strong  re- 
lief the  crudity  and  shallowness  of  his  matter,  as  jewels  set 
off  deformity.  To  the  "Patriot  King"  he  afterwards  ap- 
pended a  "Dissertation  on  the  State  of  Parties  at  the  Ac- 
cession of  George  I.,"  and  this  dissertation,  if  we  except 
the  unfinished  "Reflections  on  the  Present  State  of  the 
Nation,"  written  a  few  months  afterwards,  concludes  his 
political  writings. 

Ue  had  now  attained  the  object  for  which  he  had,  dur- 
ing fourteen  years,  been  incessantly  laboring.  The  Crafts-  ^ 
man  had  done  its  work.  Bolingbroke  had  at  last  succeeded 
in  making  his  enemy  odious  in  every  city  and  in  every 
hamlet  in  Britain.  lie  could  bear  the  cries  which  be  had 
set  up — cries  against  corruption,  cries  against  Ministerial 
tyranny  and  Royal  impotence,  cries  against  ignoble  com- 
promises with  foreign  powers,  cries  against  standing  ar- 
mies, cries  against  the  exportation  of  English  wool,  against 
Septennial  Parliaments  —  echoing,  savagely  emphasized, 
from  the  lips  of  thousands.  lie  had  at  last  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  the  Government  tottering  to  its  fall,  the  na- 
tion blind  with  fury,  clamoring  for  war,  clamoring  for  re- 
form, clamoring  for  everything  which  could  embarrass  its 
rulers.  lie  could  see  that  the  Patriots  were  now  pressing 
onward  to  certain  victory. 

Before  leaving  England,  r.t  the  beginning  of  the  spring 


170  ESSAYS. 

of  1739,  for  his  chateau  at  Argevillc,  he  had  suggested  the 
famous  secession  of  the  Opposition  which  followed  the  de- 
bate on  the  convention  with  Spain,  and  during  the  next 
two  years  he  appears  to  liave  been  roguhirly  consulted  by 
Wyndham  and  by  Wyndham's  coadjutors.  lie  affected, 
indeed,  to  be  absorbed  in  metaphysics  and  history,  but  ev- 
ery page  of  his  correspondence  proves  with  what  keenness 
and  anxiety  he  was  following  the  course  of  events  in  Eng- 
land. In  February,  1742,  the  crash  came.  The  Opposi- 
tion triumphed.  Walpole  sent  in  his  resignation,  and  all 
was  anarchy.  But  Bolingbroke  was  again  destined  to  be 
the  sport  of  Fortune.  lie  arrived  in  London  just  in  time 
to  find  his  worst  fears  realized,  Carteret  and  Pulteney  in 
coalition  with  Newcastle  and  Ilardwiclce,  the  prospects  of 
the  Patriots  completely  overcast,  the  Tories  abandoned  by 
their  treacherous  allies,  and  the  Prince  of  Wales  half  rec- 
onciled with  the  King.  So  died  his  last  hope.  Uc  had 
now,  in  his  own  melancholy  phrase,  to  swallow  down  the 
dregs  of  life  as  calmly  as  he  could ;  and  little,  indeed,  but 
the  dregs  were  left. 

What  remains  to  be  told  may  be  told  in  a  few  words. 
The  death  of  his  father  relieved  him  from  pecuniary  em- 
barrassment, and  enabled  him  to  settle  down  in  compara- 
tive comfort  at  Battersea.  But  the  infirmities  of  age,  ag- 
gravated, perhaps,  by  early  excesses,  soon  weighed  heavily 
upon  him.  Every  year  found  him  more  solitary.  Of  that 
brilliant  society  which  had  gathered  round  him  at  Dawley 
and  at  Twickenham  scarcely  one  survived:  Congreve, Gay, 
Arbuthnot,  Lansdowne,  all  were  gone.  Swift  was  fast  sink- 
ing into  imbecility ;  Wyndham  was  no  more.  In  May, 
1Y44,  he  was  summoned  to  Twickenham  to  weep  over  the 
wreck  of  that  noble  genius  which  had  so  often  been  dedi- 
cated to  his  glory,  to  close  the  eyes  which  for  thirty  years 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  177 

had  never  rested  on  him  without  veneration  and  love. 
And  well,  indeed,  had  it  been  if  on  tliat  sad  day  the  world 
had  been  called  to  mourn  the  master  as  well  as  the  disci- 
ple. Vtc  should  then  have  been  spared  one  of  the  most 
melancholy  incidents  in  literary  annals.  It  is  shocking  to 
find  that  there  are  not  wanting  writers  who  attempt  to  jus- 
tify Bolingbroke's  subsequent  conduct  with  regard  to  Pope. 
In  our  opinion,  his  conduct  admits  of  no  extenuation — in 
our  opinion,  a  man  of  honor  would  never,  even  in  self- 
defence  and  under  the  strongest  provocation,  have  been 
gnilty  of  such"  atrocity.  The  facts  —  and  let  the  facts 
speak  for  themselves — are  simply  these :  On  the  comple- 
tion of  the  "Patriot  King,"  Bolingbroke  had  forwarded 
the  manuscript  to  Pope,  requesting  him  to  have  a  few  cop- 
ies printed,  with  a  view  to  distributing  them  among  pri- 
vate friends.  A  limited  number  of  copies  were  according- 
ly printed  and  circulated;  and  so  for  a  time  the  matter 
rested.  But  on  the  death  of  Pope  it  was  discovered  that, 
in  addition  to  the  copies  for  which  he  had  accounted,  he 
had  ordered  the  printer  to  strike  off  fifteen  hundred  more. 
Of  this,  however,  he  had  said  nothing  to  Bolingbroke. 
That  Pope,  in  thus  acting,  acted  with  disingenuousness 
must  be  admitted,  but  his  disingenuousness  on  this  occa- 
sion originated,  we  are  convinced,  from  motives  very  cred- 
itable to  him.  It  was  notorious  that  he  entertained  exag- 
gerated-notions of  Bolingbroke's  merits  as  a  writer.  It  is 
notorious  that  in  conversation  he  frequently  commented 
on  his  friend's  indifference  to  literary  distinction.  In  his 
letters  he  was  constantly  reminding  him  of  the  duties  he 
owed  both  to  contemporaries  and  to  future  ages,  lie  had, 
for  example,  recently  appealed  to  him  in  emphatic  terms 
to  publish  both  the  "  Essay  on  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism  " 
and  the  "  Patriot  King,"  but  in  vain.     Afraid,  therefore, 

8* 


178  ESSAYS. 

tliat  tlie  precious  treatise  thus  intrusted  to  him  might,  ei- 
ther by  some  sudden  caprice  on  the  part  of  the  author, 
or  by  some  carelessness  on  the  part  of  the  few  who  were 
privileged  to  possess  it,  be  lost  to  the  world,  he  determined 
to  render  the  chance  of  such  a  catastrophe  as  remote  as 
possible.  He  resolved  to  deal  with  Bolingbroke  as  Varins 
and  Tucca  dealt  with  Virgil — to  save  him  in  his  own  de- 
spite. Ilence  the  surreptitious  impression.  It  is  remark- 
able that  even  to  so  ill-natured  an  observer  as  Horace  Wal- 
polc,  Pope's  conduct  at  once  presented  itself  in  this  light. 
Pope  may,  it  is  true,  have  acted  in  the  mere  wantonness  of 
that  spirit  of  trickery  which  entered  so  largely  into  his 
dealings  with  his  fellow -men.  But  whatever  may  have 
been  his  object,  it  is  perfectly  clear  now,  and  it  must  have 
been  perfectly  clear  then,  that  he  had  no  intention  cither 
of  injuring  Bolingbroke  or  of  benefiting  himself.  Assum- 
ing, however,  for  a  moment  the  existence  of  some  less  cred- 
itable motive,  does  Jtlie  grave  afford  no  immunity  from  in-  > 
suit?  Was  a  single  equivocal  action  sufficient  to  outweigh 
the  devotion  of  a  whole  life?  Had  Bolingbroke  no  ten- 
derness for  the  memory  of  one  whose  friendship  had,  for 
nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century,  been  his  chief  solace  in  oblo- 
quy and  misfortune,  who  had  loved  him  with  a  love  rarely 
found  to  exist  between  man  and  man,  whose  genius  had 
elevated  him  above  Memmius  and  Majcenas,  on  whose  dy- 
ing face  his  tears  had  fallen  ?  It  is  lamentable  to  be 
obliged  to  add  that  the  motives  which  prompted  Boling- 
broke's  libel  were  almost  as  derogatory  to  him  as  the  libel 
itself.  He  had  been  annoyed  at  Pope's  intimacy  with 
Warburton.  He  had  been  still  more  irritated  when  he 
learned  that  Pope  had  appointed  Warburton  his  editor. 
While  this  was  rankling  in  his  mind,  the  discovery  relat- 
ing to  the  "Patriot  King"  was  made.     On  Pope's  copy 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  179 

being  inspected,  it  was  found  that  he  had  inserted  several 
alterations,  had  rearranged  much  of  the  subject-matter,  and 
had  in  other  ways  presumed  to  tamper  with  the  text.  At 
this  Bolingbroke's  smouldering  resentment  burst  into  a 
flame.  We  very  much  question,  however,  whether  rage 
would  have  carried  him  to  such  lengths  had  it  not  been 
aggravated  by  that  bad  man  who  was  now  always  at  his 
elbow. 

Into  Bolingbroke's  relations  with  the  cur  Mallet  we  have 
no  intention  of  entering.  To  the  influence  of  that  unprin- 
cipled adventurer  and  most  detestable  man  is,  we  believe, 
in  a  large  measure  to  be  attributed  almost  everything 
which  loaded  his  latter  years  with  reproach — the  assault 
on  Pope,  the  unseemly  controversy  with  Warburton,  the 
determination  to  prepare  for  posthumous  publication  what 
he  had  not  the  courage  to  publish  during  life.* 

*  It  is,  we  think,  highly  probable  that  the  most  obnoxious  of  Bol- 
ingbrolce's  writings  would  never  have  travelled  beyond  the  circle  of 
his  private  friends  had  it  not  been  for  the  sordid  cupidity  of  Mallet. 
Mallet,  it  is  well  known,  anticipated  enormous  profits  from  the  sale 
of  his  patron's  works,  and  did  all  in  his  power  to  swell  their  bulk. 
It  is  dangerous  to  predicate  anything  of  a  man  so  inconsistent  as  Bol- 
ingbroke,  but  it  is  remarkable  that  he  had  several  times  expressed 
in  the  most  emphatic  terms  his  anxiety  not  to  appear  publicly  among 
the  assailants  of  the  national  faith.  Indeed,  he  went  so  far  as  to 
caution  Pope  against  heterodoxy.  See  his  Letter  to  Swift,  September 
12, 1724  ;  his  Letter  to  Pope,  "  Works,"  quarto  edition,  vol.  iii.,  p.  313, 
and  again  p.  330.  See  also  "  Marchmont  Papers,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  288,  and 
Cooke's  "  Life,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  252.  It  was  said,  also,  that  he  had  prom- 
ised Lady  Ilarlingtou  that  these  works  should  never  be  published. 
See  Cooke's  "Life,"  vol.  ii.,p.  262.  In  a  letter  to  Ilardwicke  (see 
Harris,  "Life  of  Ilardwicke,"  vol.  ii.,  p.  112)  he  says  that  he  "re- 
spected evangelical  religion,"  as  he  "ought."  The  theory  that  he 
deceived  Pope  and  Swift  as  to  his  real  opinions  is  too  absurd  to  be 
discussed.     Is  it  likely  that  three  such  men  as  Bolingbroke,  Pope, 


180  ESSAYS. 

Biography  has  few  sadder  pages  to  show  than  those 
wliich  record  the  hist  days  of  Bolingbrokc.  From  the 
Fast  he  could  derive  no  consolation,  for  lie  could  look 
back  on  nothing  but  failure ;  in  the  Present  his  portion 
was  pain,  oblocjuy,  and  solitude.  In  the  Future  he  saw 
only  what  the  strongest  mind  cannot  contemplate  without 
ai)prehension,  for  his  stern  creed  taught  him  to  expect  that 
the  stroke  which  terminates  suffering  terminates  being.  A 
complication  of  disorders,  soon  to  culminate  in  the  most 
frightful  malady  to  which  man  is  subject,  racked  his  body. 
His  temper  became  irritable,  even  to  ferocity.  His  noble 
intellect  remained  indeed  unimpaired,  but  was  clouded  with 
misanthropy.  He  was  at  war  with  all  classes,  and  all  class- 
es were  at  war  with  him,  "  The  wliole  stock  of  moral 
evil " — such  is  his  language  to  Lyttclton — "  which  severity 
of  government,  inveteracy  of  party  resentments,  negligence 
or  treachery  of  relations  and  friends,  could  bring  upon  me 
seems  to  be  at  last  exhausted."*  Though  he  still  aspired 
to  direct  the  counsels  of  Frederick,  he  had  the  mortifica- 
tion of  perceiving  that  he  was  an  oracle  whom  few  con- 
sulted, many  ridiculed,  and  none  heeded.  Visitors  to  Bat- 
tersca  grew  less  and  less  frequent.  Even  liis  disciples 
began  to  fall  off.  "  Je  deviens  tons  les  ans,"  lie  wrote  in 
that  language  which  had  in  happier  days  been  so  dear  to 
him,  "  de  plus  en  plus  isole  dans  ce  monde."  In  March, 
1750,  the  only  tie  which  bound  him  to  life  was  severed. 

and  Swift,  would,  in  tlie  freedom  of  familiar  intercourse,  discuss  such 
topics  with  reserve  ?  Is  it  likely  that  their  opinions  would  materially 
differ.  The  truth  probably  is  that  Bolingbrokc  shrank,  like  Gibbon, 
from  identifying  himself  with  a  clique  whom  he  detested  as  a  philos- 
opher, as  a  statesman,  and  as  a  gentleman. 

*  Letter  to  Lyttelton,  August  20, 17-17.  Phillimore's  "  Life  of  Lyt- 
tclton," vol.  ii.,  p.  293. 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLIXGBROKE.  181 

His  wife  had  long  been  ailing;  for  several  weeks  she  Lad 
been  on  the  point  of  death.  The  blow  was,  therefore,  not 
unexpected,  but  when  it  came  it  came  with  terrible  force, 
for  he  had  loved  her  with  a  tenderness  which  seemed  scarce- 
ly compatible  with  his  cold  and  selfish  nature.  He  laid 
her  among  his  ancestors  at  Battcrsea,  and  he  commended 
her  virtues  and  accomplishments  in  an  epitaph  which  is  a 
model  of  graceful  and  dignified  eulogy.  He  was  not  long 
in  following  her.  For  some  time  he  had  been  troubled 
with  a  humor  in  his  cheet.  As  it  had  caused  him  no  in- 
convenience, he  had  paid  little  attention  to  it.  But  in  the 
middle  of  1751  it  began  to  assume  a  malignant  character, 
and  at  the  end  of  August  his  physician  pronounced  it  to 
be  cancer.  It  was  at  first  hoped  that  an  operation  might 
save  him.  He  refused,  however,  to  listen  to  those  who 
were  most  competent  to  advise,  and  insisted  on  placing 
liimself  in  the  hands  of  a  popular  empiric.  Unskilful 
treatment  served  only  to  aggravate  his  distemper.  His 
sufferings  were  dreadful.  He  bore  them  with  heroic  forti- 
tude, and  he  took  his  farewell  of  one  of  the  few  friends 
whom  Fortune  had  spared  him  with  sentiments  not  un- 
worthy of  that  sublime  religion  which  he  had  long  reject- 
ed, and  on  which  he  was  even  then  preparing  to  heap  in- 
sult. "  God  who  placed  me  here  will  do  what  he  pleases 
with  me  hereafter,  and  he  knows  best  what  to  do.  May 
he  bless  you."  These  were  tlie  last  recorded  words  of 
B(5lingbroke.  On  the  12th  of  December,  1751,  he  was  no 
more. 

A  little  more  than  two  years  after  Bolingbroke's  death, 
his  literary  executor,  Mallet,  gave  to  the  world  in  five  state- 
ly quartos  his  literary  and  philosophical  works.  With  most 
of  the  former  the  public  were  already  acquainted.  Of  the 
latter  they  knew  nothing.     To  the  latter,  therefore,  all 


182  ESSAYS. 

readers  at  once  tnriKHl,  Their  first  emotion  was  eager  cu- 
riosity, their  second  astonishment  and  anger.  Never  be- 
fore liad  an  Jtlnglishman  of  Bolingbroke's  parts  and  genius 
appeared  among  tiie  assailants  of  the  national  faith.  The 
"wliole  country  was  in  a  ferment.  The  obnoxious  works 
were  denounced  from  the  pulpit.  The  Grand  Jury  of  West- 
minster presented  tliem  as  a  nuisance.  The  Press  teemed 
with  pamphlets.  AVarburton  attacked  them  with  charac- 
teristic vigor  and  acrimony ;  and  Warburton  was  at  no 
long  interval  succeeded  by  Leland.  Nor  was  it  by  theo- 
logians only  that  the  task  of  refutation  was  undertaken. 
Poor  Henry  Fielding,  then  fast  sinking  under  a  complica- 
tion of  diseases,  commenced  an  elaborate  reply,  a  fragment 
of  which  may  still  be  found  in  his  works,  a  fragment  which 
seems  to  indicate  that  the  i)rincc  of  English  novelists  might, 
liad  he  so  willed  it,  have  held  no  mean  place  among  philo- 
sophical controversialists. 

The  writings  which  caused  so  much  consternation  among 
our  forefathers  have  long  since  passed  into  oblivion.  In 
our  day  they  are  rarely  consulted  even  by  the  curious.  Nor 
is  this  surprising.  They  satisfy  no  need,  they  solve  no 
pvo"blen),  they  furnish  little  entertainment.  What  was 
worth  preserving  in  them  has  been  presented  in  a  far  more 
attractive  shape  by  Pope.  What  was  most  daring  in  tliem 
is  embalmed  in  the  wit  and  grace  of  Voltaire.  We  shall 
therefore  despatch  them  Avithout  much  ceremony.  Their 
object  was  threefold.  It  was  to  demolish  theological  and 
philosophical  dogma,  to  purify  philosophy  from  mysticism, 
and  "  to  reconstruct  on  an  entirely  new  basis  the  science 
of  metaphysics."  Bolingbroke's  qualifications  for  the  work 
of  demolition  consist  of  boundless  fertility  of  invective,  a 
very  imperfect  acquaintance  with  the  works  which  he  un- 
dertakes to  condemn,  and  a  degree  of  teclmical  ignorance 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLIXGBROKE.  183 

which  is  sometimes  ahnost  incredible.  The  writings  on 
which  he  is  most  severe  are  the  Old  Testament,  the  Epis- 
tles of  St.  Paul,  and  the  Platonic  Dialogues.  The  first  he 
pronounces,  without  any  circumlocution,  to  be  a  farrago  of 
gross  and  palpable  falsehoods :  in  the  second  he  discerns 
only  the  jargon  of  a  fanatical  visionary,  perplexed  himself, 
and  perplexing  everything  he  discusses.  To  Plato  he  can 
never  even  allude  without  a  torrent  of  abuse.  He  is  the 
father  of  philosophical  lying,  a  mad  theologian,  a  bombastic 
poet,  the  master  of  metaphysical  pneumatics.  Having 
thus  disposed  of  those  whom  he  regards  as  the  earliest 
sources  of  Error,  he  next  proceeds  to  deal,  and  to  deal  in  a 
similar  spirit,  with  their  followers  —  with  "  superstitious 
liars  "  like  Cyprian,  with  "  vile  fellows  "  like  Euscbius,  with 
"  chimerical  quacks  "  like  Leibnitz,  with  "  nonsensical  para- 
phrasers  of  jargon  "  like  Cudworth,  with  "  orthodox  bul- 
lies" like  Tillotson,  with  "empty  bullies"  like  Clarke,  with 
"foul-mouthed  pedants"  like  Warburton.  To  say  that 
Bolingbroke  has  in  all  cases  failed  in  his  attacks  would  be 
to  give  a  very  imperfect  idea  of  his  character  as  a  contro- 
versialist. The  truth  is  that  he  knew,  as  a  rule,  little  or 
nothing  of  what  he  professes  to  confute.  It  is  obvious 
that  he  has  frequently  not  even  taken  the  trouble  to  turn 
to  the  works  on  which  he  passes  sentence.  What  he  knows 
of  the  philosophy  of  antiquity  is  what  he  has  picked  up_ 
from  Cudworth  and  Stanley.  What  he  knows  of  modern 
speculation  is  what  he  has  derived  from  Bayle,  Rapin,  and 
Thomassin.  Of  the  relative  value  of  authority  he  appears 
to  have  no  conception.  The  trash  which  has  descended 
to  us  under  the  name  of  Orpheus  is  in  his  eyes  as  authen- 
tic as  the  History  of  the  Peloponnesian  War.  He  speaks 
with  the  same  ignorant  contempt  of  the  statements  of 
writers  like  Josephus,  and  of  the  statements  of  writers  like 


184  ESSAYS. 

Herodotus  and  Diodorus.    lie  classes  Plato  with  riotinus, 
and  Aristotle  with  lamblicus. 

But  however  ludicrously  he  fails  in  point  of  knowledge, 
he  fails,  if  possible,  still  more  ludicrously  when  he  attempts 
to  reason.  His  logic  is  the  logic  of  a  woman  in  anger.  lie 
is  not  merely  inconsistent,  but  suicidal.  Wliat  he  assorts 
with  ferocious  vehemence  at  one  moment,  he  denies  with 
ferocious  vehemence  the  next.  What  is  assumed  as  unde- 
niably true  at  the  beginning  of  a  section  is  assumed  to  be 
undeniably  false  at  the  end  of  it.  We  will  give  one  or  two 
samples.  One  of  his  principal  arguments  against  the  au- 
thenticity of  the  Mosaic  Writings  is  the  a  jiriori  argument 
that,  as  man  has  no  need  of  a  revelation,  no  revelation  has 
been  conceded ;  and  this  argument  he  has  been  at  great 
pains  to  establish.  In  the  Essays  he  tells  us  that  a  revela- 
tion has  undoubtedly  been  granted,  and  that  this  revela- 
tion is  to  be  found  in  the  Gospels.  In  the  Letter  on  Til- 
lotson's  Sermon  he  informs  us  that  one  of  the  strongest 
presumptions  against  the  veracity  of  Moses  is  the  fact  that 
none  of  his  assertions  are  supported  by  collateral  testi- 
mony. In  the  Essays  he  tells  us  that  the  Pentateuch  "  con- 
tains traditions  of  very  great  antiquity,  some  of  which  were 
preserved  and  propagated  by  other  nations  as  well  as  the 
Israelites,  and  by  other  historians  as  well  as  Moses."  Of 
Christianity  he  sometimes  appears  as  the  apologist,  and 
sometimes  as  the  opponent.  In  one  Essay  it  is  the  authen- 
tic message  of  the  Almighty,  in  another  it  is  bastard  Pla- 
tonism.  In  the  Minutes  it  is  "a  continued  lesson  of  the 
strictest  morality;"  in  the  Essays  it  is  the  offspring  of  de- 
liberate deceit.  In  the  "  Letter  to  Pouilly  "  he  rejects,  he 
says,  any  revelation  which  is  not  confirmed  by  miraculous 
evidence,  because  it  lacks  authority.  In  the  "  Letters  to 
Pope  "  he  rejects,  he  says,  a  revelation  which  is  accompa- 
nied by  miraculous  evidence,  because  it  shocks  his  reason. 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  185 

Such  is  Bolingbroke's  philosophy  on  its  aggressive  side, 
the  side  on  which  it  is  at  once  most  offensive  and  most 
impotent.  In  tlie  construction  of  his  own  system — we  are 
speaking  merely  as  critics — he  has,  it  must  be  admitted, 
been  more  successful.  The  main  features  of  that  system 
are  familiar  to  us  from  the  poem  of  Pope.  Pope,  however, 
only  followed  his  friend's  theories  so  far  as  they  were  con- 
sistent with  orthodox  belief.  Bolingbrokc  carried  them 
much  further.  His  philosophy,  extricated  from  the  rank 
and  tangled  jungle  of  the  Essays  and  Minutes,  may  be 
briefly  summarized  :  That  there  lives  and  works,  self-exist- 
ent and  indivisible.  One  God ;  that  the  world  is  His  crea- 
tion ;  that  all  we  can  discern  of  His  nature  and  His  attri- 
butes is  what  we  can  deduce  from  the  economy  of  the 
Universe;  that  what  we  can  thus  deduce  is  the  quality  of 
infinite  wisdom  coincident  with  infinite  benevolence,  both 
operating  not  by  particular  but  by  general  laws;  that  any 
attempt  to  analyze  Ills  attributes  further  is  blasphemy  and 
presumption  ;  that  the  Voice  of  God  spoke  neither  in  the 
thunders  of  Sinai  nor  from  the  lips  of  Prophets,  but  speaks 
only,  and  will  continue  to  speak  only,  in  the  Harmony  of 
the  Universe ;  that  one  of  the  most  striking  proofs  of  that 
harmony  lies  in  a  sort  of  fundamental  connection  between 
the  idea  of  God  and  the  reason  of  man,  and  that  it  is  this 
bond  which  ennobles  morality  into  something  more  than  a 
conventional  code;  that  man's  faculties  are,  like  his  body, 
adapted  only  for  the  practical  functions  of  existence ;  that 
all  his  knowledge  is  derived  from  sensation  and  reflection, 
and  that,  though  lie  is  the  crown  of  created  beings,  he  has 
no  connection  with  Divinity.  There  are,  he  contends,  no 
grounds  for  supposing  either  that  the  soul  is  immortal,  or 
that  there  is  a  woi;ld  beyond  the  tomb,  for  everything  tends 
to  prove  that  the  soul  is  woven  of  the  same  perishable  ma- 


18(5  ESSAYS. 

tcrial  as  tlic  body,  and  a  future  state  is  not  only  logically 
improbable  but  essentially  superfluous.  Man's  life  is  in  it- 
self complete;  virtue  constitutes,  as  a  rule,  its  own  reward, 
vice  constitutes,  as  a  rule,  its  own  punishment.  Where  in- 
equalities exist,  they  exist  only  in  appearance.  Whatever 
is,  is  right;  but  whatever  is  must  be  contemplated,  not  in 
its  bearings  on  individuals,  but  as  an  integral  portion  of 
the  vast  and  exquisite  mechanism  of  the  Great  Whole.  It 
will  be  at  once  perceived  that  this  was  not  new,  and  that 
Bolingbrokc,  though  he  aspired  to  the  glory  of  an  original 
thinker,  laid  under  contribution  not  only  the  philosophy* 
of  antiquity  and  the  writings  of  contemporary  Deists,  but  ( 
the  speculations  of  Locke,  Shaftesbury,  Leibnitz,  Wollaston, 
Clarke,  and  Archbishop  King, 

This  portion  of  his  philosoj)hic  works  is,  to  do  him  jus- 
tice, not  witliout  merit.  His  reasoning  is,  it  is  true,  more 
specious  than  solid,  more  skilful  than  persuasive  :  frequent- 
ly contradictory,  still  more  frequently  inconclusive.  But 
what  he  states  be  usually  states  with  force,  with  perspicui- 
ty, and  with  eloquence.  His  illustrations  are  often  singu- 
larly happy,  his  theories  suggestive,  his  reflections  shrewd 
and  ingenious.  We  could  point  to  fragments  in  which 
noble  ideas  are  embodied  in  noble  language;  we  could 
point  to  paragraphs  as  fine  as  anything  in  Cicero  or  Jere- 

*  The  most  sensible  and  the  only  valuable  part  of  the  Boling- 
biokian  Philosophy  is  in  truth  little  more  than  an  expansion  of  the 
well-known  passage  in  the  De  Legibus  :  dJv  'iv  Kal  to  aov,  w  trxfrXif, 
(ii'ipiov  £('e  TO  7rai>  ^vvrdvH  jSXbttov  aei  Kuiirtp  iravaiiiKpov  ov  •  tji  di 
XiXtjOt  Tzipl  TOVTO  avTo  wc  yiveai^  tfEKa  iKtivov  yiyveroi  iraaa,  ottw^ 
y  j)  T(,<j  Tov  iravTog  fiiqj  vTrapj(pvaa  tvSal^cjv  ovaia,  ovx  iviKa  aov 
yiyvonii'i],  av  de  'iviKU  tKeivov "  Trdg  yap  laTpoQ  ivTixvoc  dijfiiopybt; 
TzavToQ  fiiv  tvtKa  vravTa  Ipya^iTai,  Trpbg  to  koivij  ^vvTtivov  (HXtkttov, 
{.upoQ  lifiv  'iviKa  oXov  Kal  ovx  'i>Xov  jj-ipovg  tveica  ATTEpya^Erai. — "  Pla- 
to Dc  Lccjibus,  lib.  x.,  p.  903. 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  LORD  BOLINGBROKE.  187 

my  Taylor.  But  tbey  are  rare  and  far  between  ;  tbey  are 
oases  in  a  wilderness  of  unmetbodical  arrangement,  of  pro- 
lix digressions,  of  endless  repetitions. 

•~Wc  must  I'luu'  talvB  uiii  lu'mc  uf  tkis  brilliant  but  most 
unbappy  man,  tbe  glory  and  tbc  sbanic  botb  of  our  bistory 
and  of  our  literature.  If  4ii  tbc  eoui'oo  of  onr  nnrrntivft  we 
have  commented  with  severity  on  bis  many  errors,  we 
would  fain,  in  parting  with  him,  remember  only  bis  nobler 
traits.  AVe  would  do  justice  to  bis  splendid  and  versatile 
genius;  to  bis  manly  and  capacious  intellect;  to  bis  ma- 
jestic eloquence ;  to  tbe  vastness  and  grandeur  of  bis  aspi- 
rations ;  to  bis  invincible  spirit ;  to  his  superhuman  energy; 
to  bis  instinctive  sympathy  with  the  exalted  and  the  beau- 
tiful. We  would  think  of  him  as  tbe  discriminating  pa- 
tron of  philosophy,  of  science,  and  of  literature.  We  would 
dwell  on  bis  superiority  to  those  base  passions  which  are 
too  often  found  among  men  of  letters,  on  his  entire  free- 
dom from  everything  paltry  and  sordid,  on  tbat  ambition 
which  had  no  taint  of  envy ;  on  that  pride  which  never 
degenerated  into  vanity.  With  all  his  blemishes,  be  is  a 
magnificent  figure ;  with  all  his  failures,  he  left  the  world 
in  bis  debt.  As  we  close  with  mingled  feelings  of  wonder 
and  pity,  of  admiration  and  sorrow,  the  checkered  story  of 
his  life,  we  are  insensibly  reminded  of  the  solemn  words  in 
which  the  Abbot  passes  sentence  on  Manfred : 

"  This  should  have  been  a  noble  creature !    He 
Hath  all  the  energy  which  would  have  made 
A  goodly  frame  of  glorious  elements, 
Had  they  been  wisely  mingled ;  as  it  is, 
It  is  an  awful  chaos — light  and  darkness, 
And  mind  and  dust,  and  passions  and  high  tiioughts, 
Mixed  and  contending  without  end  or  order, 
All  dormant  or  destructive.     IIo  will  pcrigh'." 


VOLTAIRE  IN  ENGLAND. 


SUMMARY. 


PART  I. 


Voltaire's  stay  in  England,  an  unwritten  chapter  in  his  biography, 
p.  191, 192 — Date  of  his  arrival,  p.  193, 191 — First  impressions,  p.  196 
— Tlie  friends  lie  makes  in  England :  Bubb  Dodinglon,  Sir  Everard 
FalUeiier,  p.  19(5-1 98— Interview  with  Pope,  p.  200,  201— Reverses  of 
fortune:  family  aflliotions,  p.  202,  203 — At  Easlbury,  meets  Young, 
p.  205,  20(> — His  views  on  men  and  manners,  p.  2O0-208 — Lady  Her- 
vcy:  Voltaire's  Englisli  verses,  p.  209 — His  double-dealing  in  politics, 
p.  210-212 — His  effusiveness  as  a  critic,  p.  212— Studies  of  English 
life,  p.  212-215— Visit  to  France,  p.  216. 

TART  IT. 

Scrap-book  of  Voltaire :  a  clew  to  his  familiarity  with  English  life, 
p.  216-218 — His  study  of  Newton's  works,  of  Locke's,  of  Bacon's  and 
Berkeley's,  p.  218,  219 — Warm  sympathy  with  tlic  Free-thought  move- 
ment, as  inaugurated  by  Collins  and  Woolston,  p.  220 — His  literary 
productions  in  the  English  language,  p.  220-224 — Preparations  for 
the  publication  of  the  "  Henriade,"  p.  224-226 — Issue  of  the  work : 
its  immense  success,  p.  226-228 — Piratical  publishers,  p.  228,  229 — 
Domestic  troubles,  p.  230 — Alterations  of  the  manuscript,  p.  231 — 
Comments  of  the  Press,  p.  231,  232 — Untoward  incident:  Voltaire's 
clever  escape,  p.  233 — British  national  self-complacency  strikingly  il- 
lustrated, p.  233,  234. 

PART  III. 

Voltaire's  different  literary  undertakings  from  April,  1728,  until 
March,  1*729,  p.  234-236— His  growing  familiarity  with  English  liter- 
ature, p.  236-238 — His  indebtedness  to  Englisli  Men  of  Letters,  p.  238- 
241— Retrospect  at  the  close  of  his  stay  in  England,  p.  240 — His  re- 
spect for  the  English,  p.  242 — Calumnious  statements  circulated  as  to 
the  cause  of  liis  departure  from  England,  p.  243 — Last  interview  with 
tope,  p.  244 — Voltaire's  return  to  France,  p.  245. 


VOLTAIRE  IN  ENGLAND. 


SECTION  I. 

JUNE,  1T2G-N0VEMBER,  1727. 

The  residence  of  Voltaire  in  England  is  an  unwritten 
chapter  in  tlie  literary  history  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
And  yet,  assuredly,  few  episodes  in  that  history  are  so 
well  worth  attentive  consideration.  In  liis  own  opinion  it 
was  the  turning-point  of  his  career.  In  the  opinion  of 
Condorcet  it  was  fraught  with  consequences  of  momentous 
importance  to  Europe  and  to  humanity.  What  is  certain 
is  that  it  left  its  traces  on  almost  everything  which  he  sub- 
sequently produced,  either  as  the  professed  disciple  and  in- 
terpreter of  English  teachers,  or  as  an  independent  inquirer. 
It  penetrated  his  life.  "  Des  ce  moment,"  says  Condorcet, 
"  Voltaire  se  sentit  appele  a  detruire  les  prejuges  de  toute 
espece,  dont  son  pays  etait  I'esclave."  Its  influence  ex- 
tended even  to  his  poetry  and  to  his  criticism,  to  his  work 
as  a  historian  and  to  bis  work  as  an  essayist.  Nor  is  this 
all.  The  circumstances  under  which  he  sought  our  pro- 
tection ;  his  strange  experiences  among  us ;  his  relations 
with  Pope,  Swift,  and  Bolingbroke,  with  the  Court,  with 
our  aristocracy,  with  the  people ;  the  zeal  and  energy  with 
which  he  studied  our  manners,  our  government,  our  science, 
our  history,  our  literature ;  his  courageous  attempts  to  dis- 
tinguish himself  as  a  writer  in  English — all  combine  to 
form  one  of  the  most  interesting  passages  in  his  singularly 
intcrcstin(i  career. 


192  ESSAYS. 

But,  unfortunately,  no  portion  of  Voltaire's  biography 
is  involved  in  greater  obscurity.  *'  On  ignore,"  writes 
Charles  Kennisat,  "  ii  pen  pres  quelle  f ut  sa  vie  en  Angle- 
terrc.  Ces  deux  annoes  sont  une  lacune  dans  son  histoirc. 
C'est  un  point  de  sa  biographic  qui  meritcrait  dcs  rccher- 
chcs."  Carlylc,  who  attempted  in  the  third  volume  of  his 
"Frederick  the  Great"  to  throw  some  light  on  it,  aban- 
doned the  task  in  impatient  despair.  Mere  inanity  and 
darkness  visible — such  are  his  expressions — reign,  in  all 
Voltaire's  biographies,  over  this  period  of  his  life.  "  Seek 
not  to  know  it,"  he  exclaims;  "no  man  has  inquired  into 
it,  probably  no  competent  man  over  will."* 

It  happened,  however,  that  at  the  very  time  Carlyle  was 
thus  expressing  himself,  a  very  competent  man  was  en- 
gaged on  the  task.  The  researches  of  Dcsnoiresterrcs  suc- 
ceeded in  dispersing  a  portion  at  least  of  the  obscurity 
which  hung  over  Voltaire's  movements  during  these  mys- 
terious years.  He  took  immense  pains  to  supply  the  de- 
ficiencies of  preceding  biographers.  Judging  rightly  that 
all  that  could  now  be  recovered  could  be  recovered  only  in 
scattered  fragments,  he  diligently  collected  such  informa- 
tion as  lay  dispersed  in  Voltaire's  own  correspondence  and 
writings,  and  in  the  correspondence  and  writings  of  those 
with  whom  his  illustrious  countryman  had,  when  in  Eng- 
land, been  brought  into  contact.  Mucli  has,  it  is  true,  es- 
caped him ;  much  which  he  has  collected  he  has  not,  per- 
haps, turned  to  the  best  account ;  but  it  is  due  to  him — 
the  fullest  and  the  most  satisfactory  of  Voltaire's  biogra- 
phers— to  say  that  his  chapter,  "  Voltaire  ct  la  Societe  An- 
glaise,"  must  form  the  basis  of  all  future  inquiries  into  this 
most  interesting  subject.     To  higher  praise  he  is  not,  we 

*  Carlyle's  own  account  is  full  of  errors,  some  of  tliem  evincing 
almost  incredible  carelessness. 


VOLTAIRE   m  ENGLAND.  193 

think,  entitled.  Some  of  Desnoiresterres's  deficiencies  are 
supplied  by  Mr.  Parton,  whose  "  Life  of  Voltaire  "  appeared 
in  two  goodly  octavos  in  1881.  Mr.  Parton  has  made  one 
or  two  unimportant  additions  to  what  was  already  known, 
but  he  has,  we  are  sorry  to  find,  done  little  more.  AVe 
gratefully  acknowledge  our  obligations  both  to  Desnoires- 
terres  and  to  Mr.  Parton.  But  these  obligations  are  slight. 
The  first  point  to  be  settled  is  the  exact  date  of  his  ar- 
rival in  England,  and  that  date  can,  we  think,  be  deter- 
mined with  some  certainty.  On  May  the  2d  (n.  s.),  1726, 
an  order  arrived  for  his  release  from  the  Bastile,  on  the 
understanding  that  he  would  quit  France  and  betake  him- 
self, as  he  had  offered  to  do,  to  England.  On  May  the  6th 
he  was,  as  his  letter  to  Madame  de  Ferriole  proves,  at  Cal- 
ais;* and  at  Calais  he  remained  for  some  days,  the  guest 
of  his  friend  Dunoquet,  the  treasurer  of  the  troops.  How 
long  be  remained  at  Calais  we  cannot  say,  as  no  documents 
have  as  yet  been  discovered  which  throw  light  on  his 
movements  between  the  6th  of  May  and  the  beginning  of 
June.  From  his  letter  to  Madame  de  Ferriole  it  certainly 
appears  that  he  had  no  immediate  intention  of  embarking, 
lie  asks  her  to  send  him  news  and  to  give  him  instruc- 
tions, and  tells  her  that  he  is  waiting  to  receive  them.  In 
all  probability  he  continued  at  Calais,  not  as  the  biogra- 
phers assert,  for  four  days,  but  for  nearly  five  weeks — that 
is  to  say,  from  the  6th  of  May  to  the  8th  or  9th  of  June. 
He  tells  us  himself  that  he  disembarked  near  Greenwich, 
and  it  is  clear  from  the  passage  which  follows  that  he  land- 
ed on  the  day  of  Greenwich  Fair.  That  fair  was  invaria- 
bly held  on  Whit-Monday,  and  Whit-Monday  fell  in  IV^G 
on  May  the  30th  (o.  s.).  Now  a  reference  to  the  Daily 
Courant  for  May  the  30th  shows  that  a  mail  arrived  from 

*  And  see  the  "  Letter  to  A.  M***  Melanges,"  vol.  i.,  p.  17. 
9 


194  ESSAYS. 

France  on  Sunday  the  29tli,  wliicli  would  be,  of  course,  ac- 
cording to  the  Hew  style,  June  lOtli.  Supposing,  there- 
fore, that  his  visit  at  Calais  was  protracted  to  five  weeks 
after  his  letter  to  Madame  de  Fcrriole — and  there  is,  as  we 
have  shown,  no  reason  for  supposing  tliat  it  was  not — the 
time  would  exactly  tally.  That  he  should  have  remained 
on  board  till  Monday  morning  need  excite  no  surprise. 
But  there  is  other  evidence  in  favor  of  this  date.  In  the 
remarkable  passage  in  which  he  describes  what  he  saw  on 
landing,  he  tells  us  that  the  vessels  in  the  river  had  spread 
their  sails  (deploye  lours  voiles)  to  do  honor  to  the  King 
and  Queen,*  and  he  particularly  notices  the  splendid  liv- 
eries worn  by  the  King's  menials.  We  turn  to  the  Lon- 
don Gazette  for  Monday,  May  the  30th,  and  we  find  that 
on  that  day  the  King's  birthday,  the  rejoicings  for  which 
liad  been  deferred  from  the  preceding  Saturday,  was  "  cel- 
ebrated with  the  usual  demonstrations  of  public  joy ;"  and 
in  the  British  Gazetteer  for  Saturday,  May  the  21st,  we 
read  that  "  great  preparations  are  making  for  celebrating 
the  King's  birthday,"  and  that  *'  the  King's  menial  serv- 
ants are  to  be  new  clothed  on  that  occasion."  We  be- 
lieve, then,  that  Voltaire  first  set  foot  in  England  on  Whit- 
Monday,  May  the  30th,  1726. 

On  the  voyage  he  liad  been  the  prey  of  inelancholy 
thoughts,  lie  drew,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  a  par- 
allel between  his  own  position  and  the  position  in  which 
his  favorite  hero  once  stood.  And  his  feelings  found  ex- 
pression in  verse — 

"  Je  ne  dois  pas  etre  plus  fortune 
Que  le  hei'os  celcbre  sur  ma  vielle. 


*  In  adding  the  name  of  the  Queen  he  was  of  course  mistaken,  as 
she  was  in  confinement. 


\ 


VOLTAIRE  IN  ENGLAND.  195 

II  fut  proscrit,  persecute,  damne 
Par  les  devots  et  leur  douce  sequelle. 
En  Angleterre  il  trouva  du  secours, 
J'en  vais  chercher."  * 

But  on  landing  lie  soon  recovered  Lis  clieerfulness,  and 
throwing  liimself,  in  a  transport  of  joy,  on  the  earth,  he 
reverently  sahited  it.f  Many  of  his  countrymen  have  de- 
scribed their  first  impressions  of  the  land  of  Shakespeare 
and  Newton,  but  to  none  of  them  has  it  ever  presented  it- 
self as  it  presented  itself  to  the  fascinated  eye  of  Voltaire. 
Everything  combined  to  fill  the  young  exile  with  delight 
and  admiration.  Though  his  health  was  delicate,  he  was 
in  exuberant  spirits.  It  was  a  cloudless  day  in  the  loveli- 
est month  of  the  English  year.  A  soft  wind  from  the 
west — we  are  borrowing  his  own  glowing  description — 
tempered  the  rays  of  the  hot  spring  sun,  and  disposed  the 
heart  to  joy.  The  Thames,  rolling  full  and  rapid,  was  in 
all  its  glory ;  and  in  all  their  glory,  too,  were  the  stately 
trees  which  have  now  disappeared,  but  which  then  fringed 
the  river-banks  on  both  sides  for  many  miles.  Nor  was  it 
nature  only  that  was  keeping  carnival.  It  was  the  anni- 
versary of  the  Great  Fair,  and  it  was  the  anniversary  of  the 
King's  birthday.  The  river  between  Greenwich  and  Lon- 
don was  one  unbroken  pageant.  Farther  Ihan  the  eye 
could  sec  stretched,  with  every  sail  crowded,  two  lines  of 
merchant-ships  drawn  up  to  salute  the  royal  barge,  which, 
preceded  by  boats  with  bands  of  music,  and  followed  by 
wherries  rowed  by  men  in  gorgeous  liveries,  floated  slowly 
past.     Everywhere  he  could  discern  the  signs  of  prosper- 

*  Quoted  hi  the  "  Historical  Memoirs  "  of  the  author  of  "  The  Ilen- 
riade"  (1778),  where  the  writer  speaks  of  liaving  seen  these  verses 
in  a  letter  in  Voltaire's  own  handwriting,  addressed  to  M.  Dumas 
d'Aigueberc.  f  Duvernet,  "  Vie  de  Voltaire,"  p.  64, 


196  ESSAYS. 

it\'  and  freedom.  Loyal  acclamations  rent  tlic  air,  and 
Voltaire  observed  with  interest  that  a  nation  of  freemen 
was  a  nation  of  dutiful  subjects. 

From  the  river  he  turned  to  the  park,  and,  curious  to 
see  English  society  in  all  its  phases,  he  spent  the  after- 
noon in  observing  what  was  going  on.  lie  wandered  up 
and  down  the  park,  questioning  such  holiday-makers  as 
could  understand  him,  about  the  races,  and  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  races.  He  admired  the  skill  with  which 
the  young  women  managed  their  horses,  and  was  greatly 
struck  with  the  freshness  and  beauty  of  their  complexions, 
the  neatness  of  their  dress,  and  the  graceful  vivacity  of 
their  movements.  In  the  course  of  his  rambles  he  acci- 
dentally met  some  English  merchants  to  whom  he  had 
letters  of  introduction.  By  them  he  was  treated  with 
great  courtesy  and  kindness.  They  lent  him  a  horse,  they 
provided  him  with  refreshments,  and  they  placed  him 
where  both  the  park  and  the  river  could  be  seen  to  most 
advantage.  While  he  was  enjoying  the  fine  view  from 
the  hill,  he  perceived  near  him  a  Danish  courier  who  had, 
like  himself,  just  arrived  in  England.  The  man's  face, 
says  Voltaire,  was  radiant  with  joy ;  he  believed  himself 
to  be  in  a  paradise  where  the  women  were  always  beau- 
tiful and  animated,  where  the  sky  was  always  clear,  and 
where  no  one  thought  of  anything  but  pleasure.  "  And 
I,"  he  adds,  "  was  even  more  enchanted  than  the  Dane."* 

The  same  evening  he  was  in  London,  in  all  probability 
the  guest  of  Bolingbroke.  His  acquaintance  with  that 
distinguished  man  had  begun  at  La  Source  in  the  winter 
of  1721.  Their  acquaintance  had  soon  ripened  into  inti- 
macy, and  though  since  then  their  personal  intercourse 
had  been  interrupted,  they  had  interchanged  letters.     At 

*  "  Letter  to  A.  M***  Melanges,"  vol.  i.,  p.  17  sqq. 


VOLTAIKE   IN   ENGLAND.  19Y 

tbat  time  Bolingbrolce  was  an  exile ;  he  had  recently  ob- 
tained a  pardon,  and  was  now  settled  in  England,  where 
he  divided  his  time  between  his  town-house  in  Pall  Mall 
and  his  country-house  at  Dawley.  The  friendship  of  Bol- 
ingbroke  would  have  been  a  sufficient  passport  to  the  most 
brilliant  literary  circles  in  London,  but  as  the  connection 
of  Bolingbrokc  lay  principally  among  the  Tories,  the 
young  adventurer  had  taken  the  precaution  to  secure  a 
protector  among  the  Whigs.  The  name  of  Bubb  Dod- 
ington  is  now  a  synonyme  for  all  that  is  vilest  and  most 
contemptible  in  the  trade  of  politics,  but  at  the  time  of 
which  we  are  writing  his  few  virtues  were  more  prominent 
than  his  many  vices.  Uis  literary  accomplishments,  his 
immense  wealth,  and  his  generous  though  not  very  dis- 
criminating patronage  of  men  of  letters,  had  deservedly 
given  him  a  high  place  among  the  Maecenases  of  his  age. 
At  liis  palace  in  Dorsetshire  he  loved  to  assemble  the  wits 
and  poets  of  the  Opposition,  the  most  distinguished  of 
whom  were  Thomson  and  Young — the  one  still  busy  with 
his  Seasons,  the  other  slowly  elaborating  his  brilliant 
Satires.  For  his  introduction  to  Dodington  he  was  in- 
debted to  the  English  Ambassador  at  Paris,  Horace  "Wal- 
pole  the  elder,  who  had,  at  the  instigation  of  the  Count 
de  Morville,  written  a  letter  recommending  him  to  the 
patronage  of  Dodington,  How  fully  he  availed  himself 
of  these  and  other  influential  friends  is  proved  by  the  fact 
that  when  he  quitted  England  in  1Y29  there  was  scarcely 
a  single  person  of  distinction,  either  in  letters  or  politics, 
with  whom  he  was  not  personally  acquainted.  But  his 
most  intimate  associate  was  an  opulent  English  merchant 
who  resided  at  Wandsworth,  and  whose  name  was  Everard 
Falkencr,  He  had  become  acquainted  with  hira  in  Paris, 
and  had  promised,  should  opportunity  offer,  to  visit  him 


198  ESSAYS. 

in  England,*  Falkcncr's  house  he  seems  to  Lave  regarded 
as  his  home,  and  of  Falkencr  himself  he  always  speaks  in 
terms  of  aflcction  and  gratitude.  lie  dedicated  "Zaire" 
to  him  ;  he  regularly  corresponded  with  him ;  and  to  the 
end  of  his  life  he  loved  to  recall  the  happy  days  spent 
under  his  good  friend's  hospitable  roof  at  Wandsworth, 
Many  years  afterwards,  when  he  wished  to  express  his 
sense  of  the  kindness  he  had  received  from  King  Stan- 
islaus, he  described  him  "  as  a  kind  of  Falkcner."  Of 
Falkencr  few  particulars  have  survived.  We  know  from 
Voltaire  that  he  was  subsequently  appointed  Ambassador 
to  Constantinople,  that  he  held  some  appointment  in  Flan- 
ders, and  that  he  was  knighted,  Wc  gather  from  other 
sources  that  he  became  secretary  to  the  Duke  of  Cumber- 
land, and  that  he  was  one  of  the  witnesses  called  on  the 
trial  of  Simon  Lord  Lovat,  in  1747.  To  this  it  may  be 
added  that  he  became,  towards  the  end  of  George  the  Sec- 
ond's reign,  one  of  the  postmasters-general ;  that  in  1747  f 
he  married  a  daughter  of  General  Churchill ;  and  that  he 
died  at  Bath,  November  IG,  1758. J  That  Voltaire  should 
have  delighted  in  his  society  is  not  surprising,  for  though 
we  know  little  of  Falkener's  character,  wc  know  enough  to 
understand  its  charm.  "I  am  here" — so  runs  a  passage 
in  one  of  his  letters,  quoted  by  Voltaire  in  his  remarks 
upon  Pascal — "  just  as  you  left  me,  neither  merrier  nor 
sadder,  nor  richer  nor  poorer;  enjoying  perfect  health, 
having  everything  that  renders  life  agreeable,  without  love, 
without  avarice,  without  ambition,  and  without  envy ;  and,  as 
long  as  all  that  lasts,  I  shall  call  myself  a  very  happy  man."  § 

*  Goldsmith's  "Life  of  Voltaire,"  Miscellaneous  Works,  vol.  iv., 
p.  20.  •}•  GentlemarCs  Magazine  for  February,  1747. 

:{  Genileman^s  Magazine  for  November,  1758. 
§  "ffiuvres  Completes,"  Beuchot,  vol.  xxxviii.,  p.  46. 


VOLTAIRE  IN  ENGLAND.  199 

To  what  extent  Voltaire  was  acquainted  with  the  Eng- 
lish language  on  his  arrival  at  Greenwich  it  is  impossible 
to  say.  We  can  find  no  traces  of  his  liaving  been  engaged 
in  studying  it  before  his  retirement  subsequent  to  the  can- 
ing he  received  from  the  Chevalier  de  Rohan,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  February,  1720.  If  this  was  the  case,  what  he 
knew  of  our  language  was  what  he  had  been  able  to  pick 
up  in  about  three  months.  His  progress  must  have  been 
unusually  rapid,  for  he  had  not  only  made  himself  under- 
stood at  Greenwich  Fair,  but  on  the  following  day  he  had 
mingled  familiarly  with  the  company  at  the  coffee-houses. 
It  is  of  course  possible  that  the  conversation  had,  on  these 
occasions,  been  carried  on  in  his  native  language.  Then, 
as  now,  large  numbers  of  French  refugees  had  found  a 
home  in  London.  They  had  their  own  places  of  worship ; 
they  had  their  own  coffee-houses,  the  principal  being  the 
"Rainbow,"  in  Marylebone,  and  there  was  quite  a  colony 
of  them  at  Wandsworth.  Then,  as  now,  almost  all  edu- 
cated Englishmen  were  conversant  with  the  language  of 
Racine  and  Moliere.  Regularly  as  each  season  came  round 
a  Parisian  company  appeared.  At  Court  it  was  the  usual 
mode  of  communication.  By  1728  its  attainment  was 
held  to  be  so  essential  a  part  of  education  that  in  the  Oc- 
tober of  that  year  a  journal  was  started,  the  professed  ob- 
ject of  which  was  to  facilitate  the  study  of  it.*  Indeed, 
wherever  he  went  he  would  encounter  his  countrymen,  or 
Londoners  who  could  converse  with  him  in  the  language 
of  his  countrymen.  In  Bolingbroke's  house  he  would 
probably  hear  little  else,  for  Lady  Bolingbroke  scarcely 
ever  ventured  to  express  herself  in  English ;  and  of  Falke- 
ner's  proficiency  in  French  we  have  abundant  proof.     But 

*  See  the  Flying  Post  or  Weekly  Medley,  the  first  number  of  which 
appeared  on  October  8, 1728. 


200  ESSAYS. 

among  the  cultivated  Englishmen  of  that  day  there  was 
one  remarkable  exception,  and  that  was  unfortunately  in 
the  case  of  a  man  with  whom  Voltaire  was  most  anxious 
to  exchange  ideas.  "  Pope,"  wrote  Voltaire  many  years 
afterwards,  "  could  hardly  read  French,  and  spoke  not  one 
syllable  of  our  language."  *  Voltaire's  desire  to  meet 
Pope  had  no  doubt  been  sharpened  by  the  flattering  re- 
marks which  Pope  had,  two  years  before,  made  about  the 
"  Ilenriade,"  or,  as  it  was  then  entitled,  "  La  Ligue."  A 
copy  of  the  poem  had  been  forwarded  to  him  from  France 
by  Bolingbroke,  and  to  oblige  Bolingbroke  he  had  man- 
aged to  spell  it  out.  The  perusal  had  given  him,  he  said, 
a  very  favorable  idea  of  the  author,  whom  he  pronounced 
to  be  "  a  bigot,  but  no  heretic ;  one  who  knows  authority 
and  national  sanctions  without  prejudice  to  truth  and 
charity ;  in  a  word,  one  worthy  of  that  sliare  of  friendship 
and  intimacy  with  which  you  honor  him,"f  These  com- 
plimentary remarks  Bolingbroke  had,  it  seems,  conveyed 
to  Voltaire,  and  a  correspondence  appears  to  have  ensued 
between  the  two  poets,  though  no  traces  of  that  corre- 
spondence are  now  to  be  found.J  Of  his  first  interview 
with  Pope  three  accounts  are  now  extant.  The  first  is 
that  given  by  Owen  Ruffhead,  the  substance  of  which  is 
repeated  by  Johnson  in  his  life  of  Pope;  the  second  is 
that  given  by  Goldsmith,  and  the  third  is  that  given  by 
Duvernet.  It  will  be  well,  perhaps,  to  let  each  authority 
tell  his  own  story. 

"Mr.  Pope,"  writes  Owen  Ruffhead,  "  told  one  of  his  most  intimate 
friends  that  the  poet  Voltaire  had  got  some  recommendation  to  him 
when  he  came  to  England,  and  that  the  first  time  he  saw  him  was  at 

*  See  Spence's  "Anecdotes  "  (Singer,  8vo.),  p.  204,  note. 

f  Letter  to  Bolingbroke,  dated  April  9,  1724. 

X  See  Pope's  letter  to  Caryl,  dated  December  25, 1Y25. 


VOLTAIRE  IX  ENGLAND.  201 

Twickenham,  where  he  kept  him  to  dinner.  Mrs.  Pope,  a  most  ex- 
cellent woman,  was  then  alive,  and  observing  that  this  stranger,  who 
appeared  to  be  entirely  emaciated,  had  no  stomach,  she  expressed 
her  concern  for  his  want  of  appetite,  on  which  Voltaire  gave  her  so 
indelicate  and  brutal  an  account  of  the  occasion  of  his  disorder,  con- 
tracted in  Italy,  that  the  poor  lady  was  obliged  immediately  to  rise 
from  the  table.  When  Mr.  Pope  related  tliat,  his  friend  asked  him 
how  he  could  forbear  ordering  his  servant  John  to  thrust  Voltaire 
head  and  shoulders  out  of  his  house  ?  He  replied  that  there  was 
more  of  ignorance  in  this  conduct  than  a  purposed  affront ;  that  Vol- 
taire came  into  England,  as  other  foreigners  do,  on  a  prepossession 
that  not  only  all  religion,  but  all  common  decency  of  morals,  was  lost 
among  us." — Life  of  Pope,  4to,  p.  156. 

Next  comes  Goldsmitli : 

"  M.  Voltaire  lias  often  told  his  friends  that  he  never  observed  in 
himself  such  a  succession  of  opposite  passions  as  he  experienced 
upon  his  first  interview  with  Mr.  Pope.  When  ho  first  entered  the 
room  and  perceived  our  poor,  melancholy  poet,  naturally  deformed, 
and  wasted  as  he  was  with  sickness  and  study,  he  could  not  help  re- 
garding him  with  the  utmost  compassion  ;  but  when  Pope  began  to 
speak  and  to  reason  upon  moral  obligations,  and  dress  the  most  deli- 
cate sentiments  in  the  most  charming  diction,  Voltaire's  pity  began 
to  be  changed  into  admiration,  and  at  last  even  into  envy.  It  is  not 
uncommon  with  him  to  assert  that  no  man  ever  pleased  him  so  much 
in  serious  conversation,  nor  any  whose  sentiments  mended  so  much 
upon  recollection." — Life  of  Voltaire^  Miscellaneous  Works,  vol.  iv., 
p.  24. 

It  is  difficult  to  reconcile  tliesc  accounts  with  the  narra- 
tive of  Duvernet,  who,  as  he  ahnost  certainly  had  his  in- 
formation from  Thieriot,  is  an  authority  of  great  weight : 

"  Dans  leur  premiere  entrevuc  ils  furent  fort  embarrasses.  Pope 
s'exprimait  tr5s  pcniblement  en  Fran9ais,  et  Voltaire  n'etant  point 
accoutume  aux  sifflements  dc  la  langue  Anglaise  ne  pouvait  se  faire 
entendre.  II  se  retira  dans  un  village  et  ne  rentra  dans  Loiidrcs  que 
lorsqu'il  cut  acquis  une  grande  facility  i  s'cxprimcr  en  Anglais." 

9^^ 


202  ESSAYS. 

This  seems  to  us  by  far  tbe  most  probable  account.  It 
is  certain  that  Voltaire  devoted  himself  with  great  assidu- 
ity to  the  systematic  study  of  English,  shortly  after  his 
arrival  among  us.  lie  provided  himself  with  a  regular 
teacher,  who  probably  assisted  him  not  only  in  the  compo- 
sition of  his  letters,  which  he  now  regularly  wrote  in  Eng- 
lish, but  in  the  composition  of  his  two  famous  essays.* 
He  obtained  an  introduction  to  Colley  Gibber,  and  regu- 
larly attended  the  theatres,  following  the  play  in  a  printed 
copy.f  His  studies  were,  however,  interrupted  by  his  sud- 
denly leaving  England  for  France — an  expedition  attended 
with  considerable  peril,  and  conducted  with  the  utmost  se- 
crecy. The  particulars  of  this  journey  are  involved  in 
great  obscurity.  That  he  undertook  it  with  the  object  of 
inducing  the  Chevalier  de  Rohan  to  give  him  an  opportu- 
nity of  avenging  his  wounded  honor — that  for  some  time, 
at  least,  he  remained  concealed  in  Paris,  not  venturing  to 
have  an  interview  with  any  friend  or  with  any  relative — 
is  clear  from  his  letter  to  Thieriot,  dated  August  12, 1726. 
That  he  was  at  Wandsworth  again,  almost  immediately  af- 
terwards, is  proved  by  a  letter  to  Mademoiselle  Bessieres, 
dated  October  the  15th,  in  which  he  speaks  of  himself  as 
having  been  there  for  two  months. 

He  arrived  in  England  in  a  state  of  abject  depression, 
and  this  depression  was  aggravated  by  ill-health  and  the 
cross  accidents  of  fortune.  lie  had  brought  with  him  a 
bill  of  exchange  of  the  value  of  20,000  francs,  and  this 
bill — as  he  was  not  in  immediate  need  of  money — he  had 
neglected  to  present.  On  presenting  it  to  the  man  on 
whom  it  had  been  drawn — one  B'Acosta,  a  Jew — D'Acos- 
ta  informed  him  that  three  days  before  he  had  become 

*  "  La  Voltairomanie,"  pp.  46, 47. 

f  Chctwood's  "History  of  tlic  Stage,"  p.  46. 


VOLTAIRE   IX  ENGLAND.  203 

bankrupt;  and  the  money  was  lost.  Voltaire's  misfort- 
une, however,  happening  to  reach  the  ears  of  the  King,  the 
King  good-naturedly  sent  him  a  sum  which  has  been  vari- 
ously estimated,  but  which  probably  amounted  to  a  hun- 
dred guineas,  and  so  relieved  him  from  pressing  embarrass- 
ment. But  what  affected  him  most  was  the  news  of  the 
death  of  his  sister.  This  threw  him  into  an  agony  of 
grief.  There  is  nothing  in  the  whole  range  of  Voltaire's 
voluminous  correspondence  so  touching  as  the  letter  in 
which  his  feelings  on  this  sad  occasion  found  vent.  It 
was  addressed  to  Mademoiselle  Bessiercs,  the  lady  who  had 
sent  the  intelligence.  It  is  dated  "  Wandsworth,  October 
15, 1V26."  He  describes  himself  as  acquainted  only  with 
the  sorrows  of  life ;  he  is  dead,  he  says,  to  everything  but 
the  affection  he  owes  to  his  correspondent.  He  alludes 
bitterly  to  the  "  retraite  ignoree  "  from  which  he  writes ; 
and  he  says  it  would  have  been  far  better,  both  for  his  rel- 
atives and  himself,  liad  death  removed  him  instead  of  his 
sister.  "Les  amertumes  et  les  souffrances" — so  run  his 
gloomy  reflections — "  qui  en  ont  marque  presque  tous  les 
jours  ont  ete  souvent  mon  ouvrage.  Je  sens  la  peu  que  je 
vaux ;  mes  faiblesses  me  font  pitie  et  mes  fautes  me  font 
horreur."  On  the  following  day  he  wrote  in  a  similar 
strain  to  Madame  de  Bernieres.  He  was  in  deep  distress, 
too,  at  the  cruelty  and  injustice  with  which  he  had  been 
treated  by  his  brother ;  and  to  this  distress  he  subsequent- 
ly gave  passionate  utterance  in  a  letter  to  Thieriot.*  But 
neither  depression  nor  sorrow  ever  held  long  dominion  over 
that  buoyant  and  volatile  spirit.  On  the  very  day  on 
which  he  was  thus  mournfully  expressing  liimself  to  Ma- 
dame dc  Bernieres,  he  was,  in  another  letter,  dilating  with 

*  Sec  letter  dated  "  Wandswortli,  June  14,  1727,"  "(Euvrcs  Com- 
pletes" (ed.  1880),  vol.  xxxiii.,  p.  172. 


204  ESSAYS. 

enthusiasm  on  the  beauties  of  Pope's  poetry.  This  we 
learn  from  a  very  interesting  fragment  preserved  by  War- 
burton  in  his  notes  to  the  "  Epistle  to  Arbuthnot."  As  the 
fragment  appears  to  have  escaped  the  notice  of  all  Vol- 
taire's editors  and  biographers,  and  as  it  proves  the  very 
high  opinion  he  entertained  of  Pope's  genius,  we  will 
quote  a  portion  of  it : 

"  I  look  upon  his  poem  called  the  '  Essay  on  Criticism '  as  superior 
to  the  '  Art  of  Poetry '  of  Horace,  and  his  '  Rape  of  the  Lock  '  is, 
ill  my  opinion,  above  the  '  Lutrin '  of  Dcspreaux.  I  never  saw  so 
amiable  an  imagination,  so  gentle  graces,  so  great  variety,  so  much 
wit,  and  so  refined  knowledge  of  the  world,  as  in  this  little  perform- 
ance." 

It  would  be  interesting  to  know  if  this  manuscript  letter, 
which  Warburton  described  as  being  before  him  when  he 
wrote,  is  now  in  existence.  It  was  dated  October  15, 
1726.* 

Of  his  movements  during  the  antumn  of  1726  we  know 
nothing.  The  probability  is  that  he  was  engaged  in  close 
study,  and  saw  little  society.  He  instructs  his  correspond- 
ents in  France  to  direct  their  letters  to  the  care  of  Lord 
Bolingbroke ;  but  he  was  evidently  not  in  personal  commu- 
nication with  Bolingbroke,  or  with  any  member  of  the 
Twickenham  circle.  This  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  he 
knew  nothing  of  the  serious  accident  by  which  Pope  near- 
ly lost  his  life  until  two  months  after  it  had  happened,  as 
his  letter  to  Pope,  dated  November  the  16th,  shows.  An- 
other letter,!  ^^^ — ^  letter  undated,  but  evidently  belong- 
ing to  this  period  and  written  in  English — addressed  to 
John  Brinsden,  Bolingbroke's  secretary,  points  to  the  same 
conclusion.    Very  little,  however,  of  the  following  year  was 

*  Warburton's  "Pope"  (octavo  edition),  vol.  iv.,  p.  40. 
f  Preserved  in  Colet's  "  Relics  of  Literature,"  p.  70. 


VOLTAIRE  IN  ENGLAND.  205 

spent  in  retirement,  for  wo  find  traces  of  him  in  many 
places.  His  attenuated  figure  and  eager,  haggard  face  grew 
familiar  to  the  frequenters  of  fashionable  society.  lie 
passed  three  months  at  the  seat  of  Lord  Peterborough, 
where  he  became  intimate  with  Swift,*  who  was  a  fellow- 
visitor.  At  Bubb  Dodington's  mansion,  at  Eastbury,  he 
met  Young,  who  had  not  as  yet  taken  orders,  but  was  seek- 
ing fortune  as  a  lianger-on  at  great  houses.  It  was  a  curi- 
ous chance  which  brought  together  the  future  author  of 
the  "  Night  Thoughts  "  and  the  future  author  of  "  La  Pu- 
celle;"  it  was  a  still  more  curious  circumstance  that  they 
should  have  formed  a  friendship  which  remained  unbroken, 
when  the  one  had  become  the  most  rigid  of  Christian  di- 
vines, and  the  other  the  most  daring  of  anti-Christian  prop- 
agandists. Many  years  afterwards  Young  dedicated  to  him 
in  very  flattering  terms  one  of  the  most  pleasing  of  his 
minor  poems — the  Sea  Piece. 

At  Eastbury  occurred  a  well-known  incident.  A  dis- 
cussion had  arisen  as  to  the  merits  of  "  Paradise  Lost." 
Young  spoke  in  praise  of  his  favorite  poet ;  Voltaire,  who 
bad  as  little  sympathy  with  Milton  as  he  had  with  ^schy- 
lus  and  Dante,  objected  to  the  episode  of  Sin  and  Death, 
contending  that  as  they  were  abstractions,  it  was  absurd  to 
assign  them  offices  proper  only  to  concrete  beings.  These 
objections  he  enforced  with  his  usual  eloquence  and  sar- 
castic wit.  The  parallel  between  the  hungry  monster  of 
Milton,  "  grinning  horrible  its  ghastly  smile,"  and  the 
meagre  form  of  the  speaker — his  thin  face  lighted  up,  as 
it  always  was  in  conversation,  with  that  peculiar  sardonic 

*  See  a  very  interesting  extract  from  a  MS.  journal  l^ept  by  a  Ma- 
jor Broome,  who  visited  Voltaire  in  1705,  and  who  heard  tliis  and 
other  particulars  from  Voltaire  himself.  It  is  printed  in  "Notes  and 
Queries  "  (first  series),  vol.  x.,  p.  403. 


206  ESSAYS. 

smile  familiar  to  us  from  his  portraits — was  irresistible. 
And  Young  closed  the  argument  witli  an  epigram  (we 
quote  Herbert  Croft's  version)  : 

"You  are  so  witty,  profligate,  and  thin, 
At  once  wc  think  thoo  Milton,  Death,  and  Sin." 

It  appears,  however,  from  Young's  poem,  in  which  ho 
plainly  alludes  to  this  conversation,  that  he  succeeded  in 
impressing  on  his  friendly  opponent  "  that  Milton's  blind- 
ness lay  not  in  his  song" — 

"  On  Dorset  downs  when  Milton's  page, 

With  Sin  and  Death  provoked  thy  rage, 
Tiiy  rage  provok'd,  who  sooth'd  with  gentle  rhymes  ? 

Who  kindly  couch'd  the  censure's  eye, 

And  gave  thee  clearly  to  descry 
Sound  judgment  giving  law  to  fancy  strong? 

Who  half  inclin'd  thee  to  confess. 

Nor  could  thy  modesty  do  less, 
That  Milton's  blindness  lay  not  in  his  song?" 

A  letter  written  about  this  time  to  a  friend  in  France, 
dated  by  the  editors  —  but  dated,  we  suspect,  wrongly — 
1726,  is  a  sufficient  proof  that  the  young  exile  was  no 
longer  either  discontented  or  unhappy.  "  You  who  arc  a 
perfect  Briton" — thus  the  letter  runs — "should  cross  the 
Channel  and  come  to  us.  I  assure  you  that  a  man  of  your 
temper  would  not  dislike  a  country  where  one  obeys  to 
(sic)  the  laws  only,  and  to  one's  whims.  Reason  is  free 
here,  and  walks  her  own  way.  Hypochondriacs  are  es- 
pecially welcome.  No  manner  of  living  appears  strange. 
Wc  have  men  who  walk  six  miles  a  day  for  their  health, 
feed  upon  roots,  never  taste  flesh,  wear  a  coat  in  winter 
thinner  than  your  ladies  do  in  the  hottest  days."* 

*  "Pieces  Ineditcs  dc  Voltaire."     Paris,  1820. 


VOLTAIRE  IN  ENGLAND.  207 

In  March  he  was  present  at  the  funeral  of  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton. It  was  a  spectacle  which  made  a  profound  impres- 
sion on  him,  and  he  ever  afterwards  delighted  to  recall 
how  he  had  once  been  the  denizen  of  a  country  in  which 
the  first  officers  of  tlie  State  contended  for  the  honor  of 
supporting  the  pall  of  a  man  whose  sole  distinction  liad 
lain  in  intellectual  eminence.  How  differently,  he  thought, 
would  the  author  of  the  "  Principia  "  have  fared  in  Paris, 
lie  subsequently  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  philoso- 
pher's niece,  Mrs.  Conduit,  and  of  the  physician  and  sur- 
geon who  attended  him  in  his  last  moments;  from  them 
he  learned  many  interesting  particulars.  It  is  perhaps 
worth  mentioning  that  we  owe  to  Voltaire  the  famous 
story  of  the  falling  apple,*  and  the  preservation  of  the  re- 
ply which  Newton  is  said  to  have  given  to  the  person  who 
asked  him  how  he  had  discovered  the  laws  of  the  universe. 

In  the  course  of  this  year  he  met  Gay,  who  showed  him 
the  "  Beggar's  Opera  "  before  it  appeared  on  the  stage :  f 
and  it  was  probably  in  the  course  of  this  year  that  he  paid 
his  memorable  visit  to  Congreve.  His  admiration  of  the 
greatest  of  our  comic  poets  is  suflSciently  indicated  in  the 
"  Lettres  Philosophiques,"  and  that  admiration  he  lost  no 
time  in  personally  expressing.  But  Congreve,  whose  tem- 
per was  probably  not  improved  by  gout  and  blindness,  and 
who  was  irritated,  perhaps,  by  the  ebullience  of  his  young 
admirer,  affected  to  regard  literary  distinction  as  a  trifle. 
"  I  beg,"  he  said,  "  that  you  will  look  upon  me,  not  as  an 
author,  but  as  a  gentleman."     "  If,"  replied  Voltaire,  dis- 

*  "  Lettres  Philosopliiqucs  XV.,"  and  "  Elements  de  la  Pliilosopliie 
dc  Newton,"  Partie  III.,  chap,  iii.,  where  he  says  that  he  had  heard 
tlie  story  from  M.  Conduit. 

f  MS.  letter  written  by  a  Major  Broome,  wlio  visited  Voltaire  in 
1705  :  printed  in  "  Notes  and  Queries  "  (first  scries),  vol.  x.,  p.  403. 


208  ESSAYS. 

gustcd  with  his  foppery,  "you  had  had  the  misfortune  to 
be  simply  a  gentleman,  I  should  not  have  troubled  myself 
to  wait  upon  you."  To  Congreve  he  owed,  we  suspect, 
his  introduction  to  the  Dowager  Duchess  of  Marlborough, 
who  not  only  communicated  to  liim  some  interesting  par- 
ticulars which  he  afterwards  wove  into  his  "  Sieclc  de  Louis 
XIV."  and  into  his  "  History  of  Charles  XIL,"  but  is  said 
to  have  solicited  his  assistance  in  drawing  up  her  memoirs. 
This  task  he  at  first  consented  to  undertake.  The  Duch- 
ess laid  the  papers  before  him,  and  issued  her  instructions. 
Finding,  however,  that  he  was  to  write  not  as  unbiassed 
historical  justice  required,  but  as  her  Grace's  capricious 
prejudices  dictated,  he  ventured  to  expostulate.  Upon 
that  her  manner  suddenly  changed.  Flying  into  a  passion, 
she  snatched  the  paper  from  him,  muttering,  "  I  thought 
the  man  had  sense ;  but  I  find  him,  at  bottom,  either  a 
fool  or  a  philosopher."  The  story  is  told  by  Goldsmith  ;* 
it  would  be  interesting  to  know  on  what  authority. 

Another  story,  resting,  it  is  true,  on  no  very  satisfactory 
testimony,  but  in  itself  so  intrinsically  probable  that  we 
are  inclined  to  believe  it  genuine,  is  related  by  Desnoires- 
terres.  Voltaire,  hearing  that  the  Duchess  was  engaged 
in  preparing  her  memoirs  for  publication,  ventured  to  ask 
if  he  might  be  permitted  to  glance  at  the  manuscript. 
"  You  must  wait  a  little,"  she  said,  "  for  I  am  revising 
it;"  coolly  observing  that  the  conduct  of  the  Government 
had  so  disgusted  her  that  she  had  determined  to  recast 
the  character  of  Queen  Anne,  "  as  I  have,"  she  added, 
"  since  these  creatures  have  been  our  rulers,  come  to  love 
lier  again."  Pope's  Atossa  was  assuredly  no  caricature, 
and  a  better  commentary  on  it  it  would  be  impossible  to 
find. 

*  "Life  of  Voltaire,"  Miscellaneous  Works,  vol.  iv.,  p.  25. 


VOLTAIRE   IN  ENGLAND.  209 

Like  most  of  liis  countrymen,  Voltaire  appears  to  have 
been  greatly  struck  with  the  beauty  of  the  English  wom- 
en, and  about  this  time  he  became  acquainted  with  one 
whose  charms  have  been  more  frequently  celebrated  than 
those  of  any  other  woman  of  that  age.  Voltaire  was  one 
of  the  thousand  adorers  of  Molly  Lepel,  then  the  wife  of 
Lord  Hervey.  To  her  lie  addressed  a  copy  of  verses  which 
are  interesting,  as  being  the  only  verses  now  extant  com- 
posed by  him  in  English.  Their  intrinsic  merit  is  not,  it 
must  be  admitted,  of  a  high  order,  but  as  a  literary  curiosi- 
ty they  will  bear  repetition — 

"  Hervey,  would  you  know  the  passioa 
You  have  kindled  in  my  breast? 
Trifling  is  the  inclination 

That  by  words  can  be  cxprcss'd. 

"In  my  silence  see  the  lover — 

True  love  is  best  by  silence  known ; 
In  my  eyes  you'll  best  discover 
All  the  power  of  your  own." 

A  curious  fortune  attended  these  verses.  They  were 
subsequently  transcribed  and  addressed  to  a  lady  named 
Laura  Harley — the  wife  of  a  London  merchant — by  one 
of  her  gallants,  and  they  formed  a  part  of  the  evidence 
on  which  her  husband  grounded  his  claim  for  a  divorce.* 
This  has  misled  Mr.  Parton,  who  supposes  that  Voltaire 
wrote  them,  not  in  honor  of  Lady  Ilervey,  but  in  honor 
of  poor  Mr.  Ilarley's  erring  wife.  That  they  awoke  no 
jealousy  in  Lord  Ilervey  is  proved  by  Voltaire's  letter  to 
Thieriot,  dated  April,  1732,  and  by  a  letter  he  addressed 

*  This  circumstance  is  mentioned  by  Chateauneuf  in  his  "  Les  Di- 
vorces Anglais,"  vol.  i.,  pp.  xxxv.,  xxxvi.  "Notions  Preliminaires,"  and 
is  discussed  by  Dcsnoiresterrcs,  "  La  Jeunesse  de  Voltaire,"  p.  387. 


210  ESSAYS. 

to  llcrvcy  liimsclf  in  1740.  But  tlic  beautiful  wife  of 
Lord  Ilervey  was  not  tlic  only  lady  distinguished  by  tbc 
admiration  of  Voltaire,  lie  has  spoken  in  rapturous  terms 
of  the  graces  and  accomplishments  of  Lady  Bolingbroke, 
for  whom  he  finds  a  place  in  his  "  Sieclc  de  Louis  XIV. ;" 
and  an  unpublished  letter  in  the  British  Museum  shows 
that  he  had  paid  assiduous  court  to  Lady  Sundon,  who 
had  evidently  not  been  insensible  to  his  flattery.* 

And  now  wc  come  to  a  very  curious  story,  a  story  which 
is  related  in  detail  by  Iluffhead,  and  has  been  repeated  by 
Johnson.  It  had  long  been  suspected  by  Pope  and  Boling- 
broke that  Voltaire  was  playing  a  double  part ;  in  other 
words,  that  be  had  formed  a  secret  alliance  with  the  Court 
party,  and  was  acting  as  their  spy.  Their  suspicion  was 
soon  confirmed.  In  February,  1727,  appeared  the  third  of 
a  series  of  letters  in  which  the  character  and  policy  of 
Walpole  were  very  severely  handled.  The  letter  was  writ- 
ten with  unusual  energy  and  skill ;  it  attracted  much  at- 
tention, and  Walpole's  friends  were  anxious  to  discover 
the  author.  While  it  was  still  the  theme  of  conversation 
Voltaire  came  to  Twickenham,  and  asked  Pope  if  he  could 
tell  him  who  wrote  it.  Pope,  seeing  his  object,  and  wish- 
ing to  prove  him,  informed  him  in  the  strictest  confidence 
that  he  was  himself  the  author  of  it,  "  and,"  he  added,  "  I 
trust  to  your  honor  as  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Voltaire,  that  you 
will  communicate  this  secret  to  no  living  soul."  The  letter 
had  really  been  written  by  Bolingbroke,  and  bore  in  truth 
no  traces  of  Pope's  style ;  but  the  next  day  every  one  at 
Court  was  speaking  of  it  as  Pope's  composition,  and  Vol- 
taire's treachery  was  manifest.  To  this  Bolingbroke  ap- 
parently alludes  in  a  letter  to  Swift  (May  the  18th,  1727) : 
"I  would  have  you  insinuate  that  the  only  reason  Walpole 
*  Brit.  Mus.  Add.  MSS.,  20,105. 


VOLTAIKE    IN   ENGLAND.  211 

can  have  to  ascribe  tbom  (i.e.,  the  occasional  letters  just  al- 
luded to)  to  a  particular  person  is  the  authority  of  one  of  his 
spies,  who  wriggles  himself  into  the  company  of  those  who 
neither  love,  esteem,  nor  fear  the  Minister,  that  he  may  re- 
port, not  what  he  hears,  since  no  man  speaks  with  any  free- 
dom before  him,  but  what  he  guesses."  Conduct  so  scan- 
dalous as  this  ought  not  to  be  lightly  imputed  to  any  man, 
and  it  would  be  satisfactory  to  know  that  Voltaire  had  either 
been  traduced  or  misrepresented.  It  is  not  likely,  however, 
that  the  story  was  invented  by  Warburton,  from  whom  Euff- 
head  almost  certainly  obtained  it,  and  there  is,  moreover, 
strong  presumptive  evidence  in  its  favor.  Voltaire  had 
undoubtedly  been  meddling  with  the  matter,  for  in  a  letter 
to  Thieriot,  dated  May  27,  1V27,  he  says:  "Do  not  talk 
of  the  Occasional  Writer.  Do  not  say  that  it  is  not  of  my 
Lord  Bolingbroke.  Do  not  say  that  it  is  a  wretched  per- 
formance. You  cannot  be  judge."  It  is  certain  that  he 
twice  received  money  from  the  Court ;  it  is  certain  that  he 
visited  Walpole,  and  that  he  sought  every  opportunity  to 
ingratiate  himself  with  the  King  and  with  the  King's 
friends.  It  is  clear  that  neither  Pope  nor  any  member  of 
Pope's  circle  had  much  confidence  in  him.  BoUngbroke 
has  indeed  expressly  declared  that  he  believed  him  capable 
of  double-dealing  and  insincerity,*  and  what  Bolingbroke 
observed  in  him  was  observed  also  by  Young.f  Nor  was 
such  conduct  at  all  out  of  keeping  with  the  general  tenor 
of  Voltaire's  behavior  during  his  residence  among  us. 
Throughout,  his  aims  were  purely  selfish,  and  to  attain 
his  ends  he  resorted  to  means  which  no  man  of  an  hon- 
est and  independent  spirit  would  have  stooped  to  use. 

*  Sec  his  letter  to  Madame  do  Fcrriolc,  dated  December,  1*723  ; 
"  Lcttres  llistoriques,"  vol.  iii.,  p.  274. 
■j-  Spcucc's  "  Anecdotes,"  p.  285. 


212  ESSAYS. 

It  would  pcrliapg  be  unduly  liarsli  to  describe  Lim  as  a 
parasite  and  a  sycophant ;  but  it  is  nevertheless  true  that 
he  too  often  figures  in  a  character  closely  bordering  on 
both.  Ilis  correspondence  —  and  his  conversation  no 
doubt  resembled  his  correspondence  —  is  almost  sicken- 
ing. Ilis  compliments  are  so  fulsome,  his  flattery  so 
exaggerated,  that  they  might  excusably  be  mistaken  for 
elaborate  irony,  lie  seems  to  be  always  on  liis  knees. 
There  was  scarcely  a  distinguished  man  then  living  in  Eng- 
land who  had  not  been  the  object  of  this  nauseous  homage. 
He  pours  it  indiscriminately  on  Pope,  Swift,  Gay,  Clarke, 
on  half  the  Cabinet  and  on  half  the  peerage.  In  a  man  of 
this  character  falsehood  and  hypocrisy  are  of  the  very  es- 
sence of  his  composition.  There  is  nothing,  however  base, 
to  which  he  will  not  stoop ;  there  is  no  law  in  the  code  of 
social  honor  which  he  is  not  capable  of  violating.*  The 
fact  that  he  continued  to  remain  on  friendly  terms  with 
Pope  and  Bolingbroke  can  scarcely  be  alleged  as  a  proof 
of  his  innocence,  for  neither  Pope  nor  Bolingbroke  would, 
for  such  an  oflfence,  be  likely  to  quarrel  with  a  man  in  a 
position  so  peculiar  as  that  of  Voltaire.  His  flattery  was 
pleasant,  and  his  flattery,  as  they  well  knew,  might  some 
day  be  worth  having.  No  injuries  are  so  readily  overlooked 
as  those  which  affect  neither  men's  purses  nor  men's  vani- 
ty. Another  disagreeable  trait  in  Voltaire's  social  charac- 
ter was  the  gross  impropriety  of  his  conversation,  even  in 
the  presence  of  those  whose  ago  and  sex  should  have  been 
sufficient  protection  from  such  annoyance.  In  one  of  his 
visits  to  Pope  his  talk  was,  as  has  been  already  mentioned,  so 
offensive  that  it  absolutely  drove  Mrs.  Pope  out  of  the  room.f 

*  For  an  illustration  of  Voltaire's  duplicity  and  meanness  in  social 
life,  see  Horace  Walpole's  "  Short  Notes  of  my  Life." 
t  Johnson's  "Life  of  Tope,"  Ruffhcad's  "Life  of  Pope." 


VOLTAIRE    IN   ENGLAND.  213 

Meanwhile  lie  was  diligently  collecting  materials  which 
were  afterwards  embodied  in  his  "  LettresPhilosophiques," 
his  "Dictionnaire  Philosophique,"  his  "  Siecle  do  Louis 
XIV.,"  and  his  "Histoire  de  Charles  XII."  First  he  in- 
vestigated the  history  and  tenets  of  the  Quakers.  "With 
this  object  he  sought  the  acquaintance  of  Andrew  Pitt, 
"  one  of  the  most  eminent  Quakers  in  England,  who  having 
traded  thirty  years,  had  the  wisdom  to  prescribe  limits  to 
his  fortune  and  desires  and  settled  in  a  little  solitude  at 
Ilampstead."  *  And  it  was  in  this  solitude  at  Hampstead 
that  Voltaire  visited  him,  dining  with  him  twice.  He  at- 
tended, also,  a  Quaker's  meeting,  of  which  he  gives  a  very 
amusing  account,  near  the  Monument.  The  substance  of 
liis  conversation  with  Pitt,  supplemented  by  his  own  inde- 
pendent study  of  Quaker  literature,  he  has  embodied  in  the 
article  on  Quakers  in  the  "  Philosophical  Dictionary  "  and 
in  the  first  four  "  Philosophical  Letters."  He  investigated 
the  various  religious  sects  into  which  English  Protestant- 
ism had  divided  itself,  and  to  these  schisms  be  somewhat 
paradoxically  ascribes  the  harmony  and  contentment  reign- 
ing in  the  religious  world  of  England.  "  If,"  he  observes, 
"only  one  religion  were  allowed  in  England,  the  govern- 
ment would  very  possibly  become  arbitrary ;  if  there  were 
but  two,  the  people  would  cut  one  another's  throats ;  but 
as  there  are  such  a  multitude,  they  all  live  happy  and  in 
peace."  lie  studied  the  economy  of  the  Established 
Church,  and  the  habits  and  character  of  the  clergy.  Our 
commerce,  our  finance,  and  our  government  each  engaged 
liis  attention,  and  on  each  he  has  commented  with  his  usual 
superficial  cleverness.  Three  things  he  observed  with  es- 
pecial pleasure,  because  they  contrasted  so  strongly  with 

*  See  obituary  notice  of  Pitt  in  the  Loudon  Daily  Post  for  April, 
1736. 


'211  ESSAYS. 

what  lie  had  been  accustomed  to  witness  in  France.  lie 
found  himself  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  in  the  midst  of 
a  free  people,  a  people  who  lived  unshackled  save  by  laws 
which  they  had  themselves  enacted ;  a  people  who,  enjoy- 
ing the  inestimable  privilege  of  a  free  Press,  were,  in  the 
phrase  of  Tacitus,  at  liberty  to  think  what  they  pleased 
and  to  publish  what  they  thought.  lie  beheld  a  splendid 
and  powerful  aristocracy,  not,  as  in  Paris,  standing  con- 
temptuously aloof  from  science  and  letters,  but  themselves 
not  unfrequently  eager  candidates  for  literary  and  scientific 
distinction.  The  names  of  many  of  these  noble  authors 
he  has  recorded,  and  they  are,  he  adds,  more  glorious  for 
their  works  than  for  their  titles.  With  not  less  pleasure 
he  beheld  the  lionorable  rank  assigned  in  English  society 
to  a  class  who  were  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  regarded 
with  disdain.  Voltaire  was  perhaps  the  first  writer  of  emi- 
nence in  Europe  who  had  the  courage  to  vindicate  the  dig- 
nity of  trade.  He  relates  with  pride  how,  when  the  Earl 
of  Oxford  held  the  reins  of  Great  Britain  in  his  hands,  his 
younger  brother  was  a  factor  at  Aleppo;  how,  when  Lord 
Townshend  was  directing  the  councils  of  his  Sovereign  in 
the  Painted  Chamber,  one  of  his  nearest  relatives  was  so- 
liciting custom  in  a  counting-house  in  the  City.  He  draws 
a  sarcastic  parallel  between  a  "  seigneur,  powdered,  in  the 
tip  of  the  mode,  who  knows  exactly  what  o'clock  the  King 
rises  and  goes  to  bed,  and  who  gives  himself  airs  of  gran- 
deur and  state  at  the  same  time  that  he  is  acting  the  slave 
in  the  antechamber  of  a  Prime-minister,"  and  a  merchant 
who  enriches  his  country,  despatches  orders  from  his  count- 
ing-house to  Surat  and  Grand  Cairo,  and  contributes  to  tho 
felicity  of  the  world.* 

*  See  the  remarkable  passage  at  the  cud  of  the  tenth  letter  in  the 
•'  Lcttrcs  Philosophiques." 


VOLTAIRE  IN  ENGLAND.  215 

But  nothing  impressed  him  so  deeply  as  the  homa^-c 
paid,  and  paid  by  all  classes,  to  intellectual  eminence. 
Parts  and  genius  were,  he  observed,  a  sure  passport  not, 
as  in  France,  to  the  barren  wreath  of  the  Academy,  but  to 
affluence  and  popularity.  By  his  pen  Addison  had  risen 
to  one  of  the  highest  offices  of  the  State.  A  few  graceful 
poems  had  made  the  fortunes  of  Stepney,  Prior,  Gay,  Par- 
nell,  Tickell,  and  Ambrose  Philipps.  By  his  Essays  Steele 
had  won  a  Commissionership  of  Stamps  and  a  place  in 
Parliament.  A  single  comedy  had  made  Congreve  inde- 
pendent for  life.  Newton  was  Master  of  the  Mint,  and 
Locke  had  been  a  Commissioner  of  Appeals.  He  records 
with  pride  that  the  portrait  of  "Walpole  was  to  be  seen 
only  in  his  own  closet,  but  that  the  portraits  of  Pope  were 
to  be  seen  in  half  the  great  houses  in  England.  "  Go,"  he 
says,  "into  Westminster  Abbey,  and  you  find  that  what 
raises  the  admiration  of  the  spectator  is  not  the  mausole- 
ums of  the  English  Kings,  but  the  monuments  which  the 
gratitude  of  the  nation  has  erected  to  perpetuate  the  mem- 
ory of  those  illustrious  men  who  contributed  to  its  glory." 
He  thought  bitterly  how  in  his  own  country  he  had  seen 
Crebillon  on  the  verge  of  perishing  by  hunger,  and  the 
son  of  Racine  on  the  last  stage  of  abject  destitution. 
AVhcn,  too,  on  his  return  to  France,  he  saw  the  body  of 
poor  Adricnne  Lccouvreur  refused  the  last  rites  of  religion, 
and  buried  with  the  burial  of  a  dog,  "  because  she  was  an 
actress,"  his  thoughts  wandered  to  the  generous  and  large- 
hearted  citizens  who  laid  the  coffin  of  Anne  Oldficld  beside 
the  coffins  of  their  kings  and  of  their  heroes. 

"  0  rivale  d' Athene,  0  Londres !  licureuse  terre, 
Ainsi  que  Ics  tyians,  vous  avcz  su  cliasser 
Lcs  prejiiges  hontcux  qui  vous  livraieut  la  guerre. 
C'cst  lii  qu'oti  sait  tout  dire  ot  tout  recoaipcuscr. 


A 


21G  ESSAYS. 

Nul  art  n'est  m6pnse,  tout  succcs  a  sa  gloirc. 
Le  vainqueur  dc  Tallaril,  Ic  fils  de  la  A'ictoirc, 
Le  sublime  Drydcn,  ct  Ic  sage  Addison, 
Et  la  charmantc  Oldfield,  et  riramortel  Newton 

Ont  part  au  temple  de  memoire, 
Et  Lecouvreur  h  Londrc  aurait  cu  des  tombeaux 
Parmi  les  bcaux-esprits,  les  rois  ct  les  heros. 
Quiconque  a  des  talents  h,  Londre  est  un  grand  homnic." 
La  Mort  de  Mile.  Lecouvreur. 

In  January,  1727,  ho  had  the  honor  to  be  introduced  to 
the  King,  wlio  received  him  very  graciously.*  At  the  end 
of  June  he  obtained  permission  from  the  French  Govern- 
ment to  visit  Paris,  but  it  was  on  the  understanding  that 
lie  was  not  to  remain  there  for  more  than  three  months, 
counting  from  the  day  of  his  arrival.  If  that  time  was 
exceeded,  it  was  exceeded  at  his  peril.  Of  the  particulars 
of  this  visit  nothing  is  known.  It  is  even  doubtful  whether 
he  undertook  it.  If  it  was  undertaken  it  was,  like  the 
former  visit,  kept  a  profound  secret,  even  from  his  most 
intimate  friends.f 

SECTIONT  II. 
NOVEMBER,  n27-MARCH,  n2& 

Among  the  Ashburnham  MSS.J  there  is  a  curious  relic 
of  Voltaire's  residence  in  England.     It  is  the  Common- 

*  British  Journal,  January  28,  1726-27,  where  a  special  paragraph 
is  inserted  to  commemorate  tliis  interview. 

f  Desnoiresterres  asserts  that  Voltaire  did  not  avail  himself  of  the 
permission  given,  but  remained  in  England,  and  this  is  certainly  borne 
out,  not  only  by  the  absence  of  any  proof  of  his  absence  from  Eng- 
land, but  by  Voltaire's  own  letter  to  Thieriot,  absurdly  dated  by  the 
editors  1753,  properly  to  be  dated  end  of  1728,  or  spring  of  1729. 

\  Barrois,  653.  For  permission  to  inspect  these  most  curious  notes 
I  am  indebted  to  the  courtesy  and  kindness  of  Lord  Ashburnham. 


VOLTAIRE  IN  ENGLAND.  217 

place-book  in  which  he  entered  from  time  to  time  such 
things  as  struck  him,  either  in  liis  reading  or  in  what  he 
heard  in  conversation.  The  memoranda,  which  are  inter- 
spersed with  extracts  from  Italian  and  Latin  poets,  are  in 
English  and  French,  and  they  range  from  traditionary 
witticisms  of  llochcster,  often  grossly  indecent,  and  from 
equally  indecorous  anecdotes  and  verses  picked  up  no 
doubt  in  taverns  and  coffee-houses,  to  notes  evidently  in- 
tended for  the  dedication  to  "  Brutus,"  the  "  Life  of  Charles 
XIL,"  and  the  "  Letters  Philosophiques,"  and  to  fragments 
of  original  poems  and  translations.  They  unfortunately 
throw  no  light  on  his  personal  life,  beyond  communicating 
the  not  very  important  fact  that  he  kept  a  footman. 

The  variety  and  extent  of  Voltaire's  English  studies  are, 
considering  his  comparatively  short  residence  in  this  coun- 
try, and  his  numerous  occupations  during  that  residence, 
amazing.  He  surveyed  us  on  all  sides,  and  his  survey  was 
not  confined  to  the  living  world  before  him  ;  it  extended 
back  to  the  world  of  the  past,  for,  as  his  writings  prove, 
he  was  versed  both  in  our  antiquities  and  in  our  history. 
But  the  subjects  which  most  interested  him  were,  as  was 
natural,  philosophy  and  polite  letters.  In  pWlosophy  two 
great  movements  were  at  this  time  passing  over  England ; 
the  one  was  in  a  scientific,  the  other  in  a  theological  or 
metaphysical  direction  ;  the  one  emanated  from  Bacon  and 
Newton,  the  other  from  that  school  of  deists  which,  origi- 
nating with  Herbert  and  Ilobbes,  had  found  its  modern 
exponents  in  Tyndal,  Toland,  Collins,  and  Woolston.  His 
guides  in  these  studies  were  Bolingbrokc  and  Dr.  Samuel 
Clarke.  Of  all  Newton's  disciples,  Clarke  was  the  most 
generally  accomplished.  In  theology,  in  metaphysics,  in 
natural  science,  in  mathematics,  and  in  pure  scholarship, 
he  was  almost  equally  distinguished,     lie  had  lived  on 

10 


218  ESSAYS. 

terms  of  close  intimacy  with  Newton,  whose  "Optics"  he 
had  translated  into  Latin.  He  wa^  as  minutely  versed  in 
the  writings  of  Bacon  and  Locke  as  in  the  writings  of 
Descartes  and' Leibnitz;  and  of  tlic  learned  controversies 
of  his  time  there  was  scarcely  one  in  which  lie  had  not 
taken  a  leading  part.  With  this  eminent  man  Voltaire 
first  came  into  contact  in  the  autumn  of  1726.  At  that 
time  their  conversation  turned  principally  on  metaphysics. 
Voltaire  was  fascinated  by  the  boldness  of  Clarke's  views, 
and  blindly  followed  him.  In  his  own  expressive  phrase, 
"  Clarke  sautait  dans  I'abirae,  et  j'osai  I'y  suivre."  But  he 
soon  recovered  himself,  and  was  on  firm  ground  again. 

Ills  acquaintance  with  Clarke  probably  led  to  his  ac- 
quaintance with  another  distinguished  disciple  of  Newton. 
This  was  Dr.  Henry  Pemberton.  Pemberton  was  then 
busy  preparing  for  the  press  the  first  popular  exposition  of 
Newton's  system,  a  work  which  appeared  in  1728  under 
the  title  of  "  A  View  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton's  Philosophy." 
It  is  clear  that  Voltaire  had  seen  this  work  either  in  proof 
or  in  manuscript.  For  in  a  letter  to  Thieriot,  dated  some 
months  before  the  treatise  was  published,  he  speaks  of  it 
in  a  manner  "which  implies  that  he  had  inspected  it.  It 
was  most  likely  under  Pemberton's  auspices  that  he  com- 
menced the  study  of  the  "Principia"  and  "Optics"  which 
he  afterwards  resumed  more  seriously  at  Cirey.  That  the 
work  was  of  immense  service  to  him  in  his  Newtonian 
studies  is  certain.  Indeed  his  own  account  of  the  Newto- 
nian philosophy  in  the  "  Lettres  Philosophiques,"  and  in 
the  "  Elements  de  la  Philosophic  de  Newton,"  is  in  a  large 
measure  based  on  Pemberton's  exegesis. 

From  Newton,  whose  "Metaphysics"  disgusted  him,  he 
proceeded  to  Locke.  Locke's  "  Essay "  he  perused  and 
rcpcrused  with  delight.     It  became  his  philosophical  gos- 


VOLTAIRE   IN   ENGLAND.  219 

pel.  In  his  writings  and  in  bis  conversation  he  scarcely 
ever  alluded  to  it  except  in  terms  of  almost  extravagant 
culogT ;  and  to  Locke  he  remained  loyal  to  the  last. 
"For  thirty  years,"  he  writes  in  a  letter  dated  July,  1768, 
"  I  have  been  persecuted  by  a  crowd  of  fanatics  because  I 
said  that  Locke  is  the  Hercules  of  Metaphysics,  who  has 
fixed  the  boundaries  of  the  human  mind."  *  His  acquaint- 
ance with  Bacon  was  probably  slight,  and  what  he  knew 
of  his  Latin  works  was,  we  suspect,  what  he  had  picked  up 
in  conversation  from  Bolingbroke  and  Clarke.  No  man 
who  had  read  the  "Novum  Organum"  would  speak  of  it 
as  Voltaire  speaks  of  it  in  his  Twelfth  Letter.  But  Ba- 
con's English  writings,  the  "  Essays,"  that  is  to  say,  and 
the  History  of  Henry  YH.,  he  had  certainly  consulted. 
He  appears  also  to  have  turned  over  the  works  of  Ilobbes 
and  Cudworth.  Berkeley  he  knew  personally,  and  though 
he  was,  he  said,  willing  to  profess  himself  one  of  that  great 
philosopher's  admirers,  he  was  not  inclined  to  become  one 
of  his  disciples.  How  carefully  he  had  read  "  Alciphron  " 
is  proved  by  his  letter  to  Andrew  Pitt.f  Nor  did  his  in- 
defatigable curiosity  rest  here.  He  took  a  lively  interest 
in  natural  science,  and  was  acquainted  with  several  mem- 
bers of  the  Royal  Society,  and  particularly  with  the  vener- 
able President,  Sir  Hans  Sloane,  to  whom  he  presented  a 
copy  of  the  English  Essays.J     Of  that  society  he  was 

*  See  the  very  interesting  letter  to  Horace  AValpole  printed  in  tlie 
appendix  to  the  "  Historical  Memoirs  of  the  Author  of  the  Henriade." 

\  This  interesting  letter,  written  in  English,  is  printed  in  Leonard 
Howard's  "  Collection  of  Letters,"  p.  604.  Howard's  character  was 
not  above  suspicion,  but  there  seems  no  reason  for  questioning  the 
genuineness  of  this  letter,  the  original  of  which  was,  he  says,  in  the 
hands  of  one  of  his  friends. 

\  Sec  the  copy  with  the  autograph  inscription  in  the  British  Museum. 


220  ESSAYS. 

some  years  after  elected  a  Fellow,  as  the  archives  of  tlio 
Society  still  testify.* 

But  what  most  engaged  his  attention  was  the  contro- 
versy then  raging  between  the  opponents  and  the  apolo- 
gists of  Christianity.  It  was  now  at  its  height.  Upward 
of  two  years  had  passed  since  Anthony  Collins  had  pnb- 
lishcd  his  "Discourse  on  the  Grounds  and  Reasons  of  the 
Christian  Religion."  No  work  of  that  kind  had  made  so 
deep  an  impression  on  the  public  mind.  It  had  been  de- 
nounced from  the  pulpit;  it  had  elicited  iimunicrable  re- 
plies from  the  press.  Other  works  of  a  similar  kind  suc- 
ceeded, each  in  its  turn  aggravating  the  controversy.  In 
1727  appeared,  dedicated  to  the  Bishop  of  London,  the 
first  of  Woolston's  "  Six  Discourses  on  the  Miracles  of 
Clirist,"  a  work  which  brought  into  the  field  the  most  dis- 
tinguished ecclesiastics  then  living.  We  believe  that  Vol- 
taire owed  infinitely  more  to  Bolingbroke  than  to  all  the 
other  English  deists  put  together,  but  how  carefully  he 
had  followed  the  course  of  this  controversy  is  obvious 
from  innumerable  passages  in  his  subsequent  writings.  Of 
Woolston,  in  particular,  he  always  speaks  with  great  re- 
spect, and  he  has,  in  an  article  in  the  "Dictionnaire  Philo- 
sophique,"  given  a  long  and  appreciative  account  of  the 
labors  of  that  courageous  freethinker.  Nor  was  his  admi- 
ration confined  to  mere  eulogy,  for  when,  three  years  later, 
Woolston  was  imprisoned  and  fined  for  his  heterodox  opin- 
ions, Voltaire  at  once  wrote  off  from  France  voluntarily  to 
be  responsible  for  a  third  of  the  sum  requircd.f 

In  the  winter  of  1727  he  published  a  little  volume, 
which  is  not  only  among  the  curiosities,  but  among  the 

*  He  was  elected  a  Fellow  on  November  3,  1743. — Archives  of 
tlic  Royal  Society. 

\  Duvemet,  "  Vie  de  Voltaire,"  p.  72. 


VOLTAIRE   IN  EXGLAXD.  221 

marvels  of  literature.  It  contained  two  essays.  The  first 
was  entitled  "An  Essay  upon  the  Civil  A^^^rs  in  France," 
the  other,  "  An  Essay  upon  Epic  Poetry,"  Both  these  es- 
says are  composed  in  English — not  in  such  English  as  we 
should  expect  to  find  written  by  one  who  had  acquired  the 
language,  but  in  such  English  as  would  in  truth  have  re- 
flected no  discredit  on  Drydcn  or  Swift.  If  we  remember 
that  at  the  time  when  he  accomplished  this  feat  he  had 
only  been  eighteen  months  in  England,  and  that  he  was,  as 
he  informs  us  in  the  preface,  writing  in  a  language  which 
he  was  scarcely  able  to  follow  in  conversation,  his  achieve- 
ment may  be  fairly  pronounced  to  be  without  parallel  in 
linguistic  triumphs.*/  As  the  work  is  neither  generally- 
known  nor  very  accessible,  we  will  transcribe  a  short  ex- 
tract from  each  discourseTl  The  first  essay  is  an  historical 
sketch  of  the  civil  troubles  in  France  between  the  acces- 
sion of  Francis  the  Second  and  the  reconciliation  of  Hen- 
ry the  Fourth  with  the  Church  of  Rome.  The  character 
and  position  of  the  Protestants  arc  thus  described: 

"  Tlie  Protestants  began  then  to  grow  numerous,  and  to  be  conscious 
of  their  strength.  The  superstition,  tlie  dull,  ignorant  knavery  of  the 
monks,  the  overgrown  power  of  Rome,  men's  passions  for  novelty,  the 
ambition  of  Luther  and  Calvin,  the  policy  of  many  princes — all  these 
had  given  rise  and  countenance  to  this  sect,  free  indeed  from  super- 
stition, but  running  as  headlong  towards  anarchy  as  the  Church  of 
Rome  towards  tyranny.  The  Trotcstants  had  been  unmercifully  per- 
secuted in  France,  but  it  is  the  ordinary  effect  of  persecution  to  make 
proselytes.  Their  sect  increased  every  day  amid  the  scaffolds  and 
tortures.  Conde,  Coligni,  the  two  brothers  of  Coligni,  all  their  adhe- 
rents, all  who  were  opposed  by  the  Guises,  turned  Protestants  at  once. 

*  He  told  Martin  Sherlock  that  he  was  never  able  to  pronounce 
the  English  language  perfectly,  but  that  his  ear  was  sensitively  alive 
to  tiie  harmony  of  the  language  and  the  poetry. —  Letters  from  an 
EnfjUsh  Traveller  (Letter  xxv.). 


222  ESSAYS. 

They  uuUcJ  tlicir  griefs,  their  vengeance,  and  their  interests  together, 
so  tliat  a  revolution  both  in  the  Slate  and  in  religion  was  at  hand." 

The  second  essay,  which  is  a  dissertation  on  Epic  Poet- 
ry, and  a  review  of  the  principal  epic  poems  of  antiquity 
and  of  modern  Europe,  is  a  piece  not  unworthy  of  a  place 
beside  tlie  best  of  Dryden's  prefaces.  The  remarks  on 
Virgil,  Lucan,  and  Tasso  are  admirable,  and  the  critique 
on  "  Paradise  Lost,"  which  is  described  as  "  the  noblest 
work  which  human  imagination  hath  ever  attempted," 
gives  us  a  higher,  idea  of  Voltaire's  critical  powers  than 
any  of  his  French  writings.  For  the  account  of  Camoens 
he  is  said  to  have  been  indebted  to  Colonel  Martin  Bladen. 
"  I  remember,"  says  Warton,  in  his  notes  on  the  "  Dunciad" 
"  that  Collins  the  poet  told  me  that  [his  uncle]  Bladen  had 
given  to  Voltaire  all  that  account  of  Camoens  inserted  in 
his  Essay  on  the  Epic  Poets,  and  that  Voltaire  seemed  be- 
fore entirely  ignorant  of  the  name  and  character  of  Camo- 
ens."* Indeed  the  whole  treatise  well  deserves  attentive 
study.  The  purity,  vigor,  and  elegance  of  the  style  will  be 
at  once  evident  from  the  following  extract,  which  is,  we 
may  add,  a  fair  average  sample  : 

"  The  greatest  part  of  the  critics  have  filched  the  rules  of  epic  poetry 
from  the  books  of  Homer,  according  to  the  custom,  or  rather  to  the 
weakness,  of  men  who  mistake  commonly  the  beginning  of  an  art  for 
the  principles  of  the  art  itself,  and  are  apt  to  believe  that  everything 
must  be  by  its  own  nature  what  it  was  when  contrived  at  first.     But 

*  Warton's  "  Pope,"  vol.  v.,  p.  284.  Though  Warton  has  in  this 
passage  confused  Martin  Bladen,  the  translator  of  "  Caesar's  Commen- 
taries," with  Edmund  Bladen,  who  was  CoUins's  uncle,  there  is  no  rea- 
son for  doubting  the  substantial  truth  of  what  he  reports.  That  Colo- 
nel Martin  Bladen  had  some  special  acquaintance  with  Spanish  and 
Portuguese  seems  certain,  from  the  fact  that  in  1717  he  was  offered 
the  Envoyship  Extraordinary  to  the  Court  of  Spain,  and  that  in  his 
will  he  leaves  legacies  to  Dr.  de  Arboleda  and  Josias  Luberdo. 


VOLTAIRE    IN   ENGLAND.  223 

as  Homer  wrote  two  poems  of  a  quite  different  nature,  and  as  the 
'^neid'  of  Virgil  partakes  of  tlic  'Iliad'  and  of  tlie  'Odyssey,' 
the  commentators  were  forced  to  establish  different  rules  to  reconcile 
Homer  with  himself,  and  other  new  rules  again  to  7uake  Virgil  agree 
with  Homer,  just  as  the  astronomers  labored  under  the  necessity  of 
adding  to  or  taking  from  their  systems,  and  of  bringing  in  concentric 
and  eccentric  circles,  as  they  discovered  new  motions  in  the  heavens. 
The  ignorance  of  the  ancients  was  excusable,  and  their  search  after 
the  unfathomable  system  of  nature  was  to  be  commended,  because  it 
is  certain  that  nature  hath  its  own  principles,  unvariable  and  unerr- 
ing, and  as  worthy  of  our  search  as  remote  from  our  conceptions. 
But  it  is  not  with  the  inventions  of  art  as  with  the  works  of  nature." 

If  A'oltaire  was  able  after  a  few  months'  residence  in 
London  to  produce  such  prose  as  this,  it  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  he  might  with  time  and  practice  have  taken  his 
place  among  our  national  classics.  With  the  exceptions 
of  De  Lolme  and  Blanco  White,  it  may  be  doubted  wheth- 
er any  writer  to  whom  English  was  an  acquired  language 
has  achieved  so  perfect  a  mastery  over  it.  It  is,  however, 
not  improbable  that  he  obtained  more  assistance  in  com- 
posing these  essays  than  his  vanity  would  allow  him  to 
own.  The  Abbe  Desfontaines  asserts,  indeed,  that  the  Es- 
say on  Epic  Poetry  was  composed  in  French,  and  that  it 
was  then  translated  into  English  under  the  superintendence 
of  Voltaire's  "raaitre  de  langue."*  But  the  testimony  of 
that  mean  and  malignant  man  carries  little  weight,  and  if 
it  had  not  been  partially,  at  least,  confirmed  by  Spence  we 
should  have  left  it  unnoticed.  What  Spence  says  is  this: 
"  Voltaire  consulted  Dr.  Young  about  his  essay  in  English, 
and  begged  him  to  correct  any  gross  faults  he  might  find 
in  it.  The  doctor  set  very  honestly  to  work,  marked  the 
passages  most  liable  to  censure,  and  when  he  went  to  ex- 
plain himself  about  them,  Voltaire  could  not  avoid  burst- 
*  "  La  Voltairomanie,"  p.  46. 


221  ESSAYS. 

ing  out  a-laugliing  in  liis  face."  The  reason  of  this  ill- 
timed  irierriment  it  is  not  very  easy  to  sec :  the  anecdote 
is,  perhaps,  imperfectly  reported.  But  in  spite  of  Desfon- 
taines  and  Spence,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  Essays 
are  what  they  pretend  to  be,  the  genuine  work  of  Voltaire. 
We  have  only  to  turn  to  his  English  correspondence  at 
this  period  to  sec  that  he  was  quite  equal  to  their  produc- 
tion. The  little  book  was  favorably  received.  In  the  fol- 
lowing year  a  second  edition  was  called,  for,  a  third  followed 
at  no  long  interval,  and  in  ITSI  it  reached  a  fourth;  a 
Discourse  on  Tragedy,  which  is  merely  a  translation  of  the 
French  "  Discours  sur  la  Tragcdic  "  prefixed  to  Brutus,  be- 
ing added.  And  it  long  held  its  own.  Its  popularity  is 
sufficiently  attested  by  the  fact  that  in  IVGO  it  was  reprint- 
ed at  Dublin,  with  a  short  notice  attributed,  but  attributed 
erroneously,  to  Swift,  who  had  of  course  been  long  dead. 

Voltaire  was  not  the  man  to  waste  his  energy  on  the 
production  of  a  mere  tour  de  force.  The  volume  had  an 
immediate  practical  object.  That  object  was  to  prepare 
the  public  for  the  appearance  of  the  "  Ilcnriade,"  which 
was  now  receiving  the  finishing  touches,  and  was  ahiiost 
ready  for  the  printer.  )  It  was  probably  to  facilitate  its 
publication  that  he  removed  about  this  time  (end  of  1727) 
from  Wandsworth  to  London,  where  he  resided,  as  the  su- 
perscriptions of  two  of  his  letters  show,  in  Maiden  Lane, 
Covent  Garden,  at  the  sign  of  the  White  Peruke.  Nor 
is  Maiden  Lane  the  only  part  of  London  associated  with 
Voltaire  during  this  period.  It  would  seem  that  Billiter 
Square  is  entitled  to  the  honor  of  having  once  numbered 
him  among  its  occupants.  This  we  gather  from  an  un- 
dated letter  addressed  to  John  Brinsden,  Bolingbroke's  con- 
fidential secretary,*  in  which  Brinsden  is  directed  to  ad- 

*  Preserved  in  Colet's  "Relics  of  Literature,"  p.  70. 


VOLTAIRE   IN   ENGLAND.  225 

dress  his  reply  to  Mr.  Cavalier,  Bel itery  {sic)  Square,  by  the 
Royal  Exchange,  a  request  which  Voltaire  would  scarcely 
have  made  had  he  not  been  residing  there.  In  Billiter 
Square,  which  is  described  by  a  contemporary  topographer 
as  "  a  very  handsome,  open,  and  airy  phice,  with  good  new 
brick  buildings,"  he  would  be  within  a  few  paces  of  his 
agents,  Messrs.  Simon  &  Benezet. 

Of  the  many  letters  which  were  doubtless  written  by 
him  at  this  time,  some  have  been  preserved.  One  is  ad- 
dressed to  Swift,  to  whom  he  had  a  few  months  before 
given  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  Count  de  Morville. 
He  sends  him  a  copy  of  the  Essays,  professes  himself  a 
great  admirer  of  his  writings,  informs  him  that  the  "  Ilen- 
riade"  is  almost  ready,  and  asks  him  to  exert  his  interest 
to  procure  subscribers  in  Ireland.  In  anotlier  letter  he  so- 
licits the  patronage  of  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  informing  him 
of  the  distinguished  part  which  one  of  his  ancestors  plays 
in  the  "  llenriade,"  alhiding  to  his  own  personal  acquaint- 
ance with  Achilles  de  Harley,  and  importuning  the  earl  to 
grant  him  the  favor  of  an  interview.*  With  Thieriot,  on 
whom  he  relied  to  push  the  poem  in  France,  he  regularly 
corresponded.  Meanwhile  popular  curiosity  was  stimulated 
by  successive  advertisements  in  the  newspapers,  and  in  Janu- 
ary, 1V28,  an  elaborate  pufE  appeared  in  the  columns  of  the 
leading  literary  periodical :  "  We  hope  every  day,"  so  runs 
the  notice,  "  to  see  Mr.  Do  Voltaire's  '  llenriade.'  He  has 
greatly  raised  the  expectations  of  the  curious  by  a  beautiful 
Essay  he  lately  published  upon  the  Civil  W^ars  of  France, 
which  is  the  subject  of  his  poem,  and  upon  the  Epic  Poets, 
from  Homer  down  to  Milton.  As  this  gentleman  seems  to 
be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  all  the  best  poets,  both  an- 

*  Unprinted  letter  among  tlie  manuscripts  at  Longleat,  for  a  copy 
of  which  I  am  indebted  to  the  kindness  of  the  librarian. 

10* 


226  ESSAYS. 

ciciit  and  modern,  and  judges  so  well  of  their  beauties  and 
faults,  we  have  reason  to  hope  that  the  'Henriade'  will  bo 
a  finished  performance,  and  as  he  writes  with  uncommon 
elegance  and  force  in  English,  though  lie  has  been  but  eigh- 
teen months  in  this  country,  we  expect  to  find  in  his  poem 
all  that  beauty  and  strength  of  wliich  his  native  language 
is  capable."* 

All  through  the  summer  and  winter  of  1727  he  was 
hard  at  work  on  the  manuscript  or  the  proofs.f  But  this 
was  not  the  only  task  lie  had  in  liand.  He  was  busy  with 
his  "Essai  sur  la  Poesie  Epiquc,"  which  is  not,  he  is  care- 
ful to  explain,  a  translation  of  his  English  essay,  but  an 
independent  work,  a  work  of  which  the  English  essay  was 
to  be  regarded  as  the  preliminary  sketch.J  It  was  after- 
wards prefixed  to  the  "  Uenriade."  A  comparative  study 
of  the  two  will  show  with  what  skill  he  adapts  himself, 
even  as  a  critic,  to  the  countrymen  of  Boileau  and  Racine 
on  the  one  hand,  and  to  the  countrymen  of  Milton  and 
Addison  on  the  other. 

At  last  the  "  Henriade "  was  ready.  It  was  first  an- 
nounced, in  a  succession  of  advertisements,  that  it  would 
appear  in  February  (1728);  it  was  then  announced  in  a 
second  succession  of  advertisements  that  it  would  appear 
in  March,  and  in  March  it  was  published.  The  subscribers 
had  at  first  been  alarmingly  slow  in  coming  forward;  but 
when  the  day  of  publication  arrived  the  names  on  the  sub- 
scription list  amounted  to  three  hundred  and  forty-four; 
and  among  the  subscribers  were  the  King,  the  Queen,  and 
the  heads  of  almost  all  the  uoble  families  connected  with 
the  Court.     In  its  first  form  the  poem  had  been  dedicated 

*  "  Present  State  of  the  Republic  of  Letters,"  vol.  i.,  p.  88. 

f  Letter  to  Thieriot,  dated  August,  1728. 

t  See  his  English  letter  to  Thieriot,  dated  14th  of  June,  1727. 


VOLTAIRE   IN   ENGLAND.  227 

to  Louis  XV.  That  dedication  was  now  cancelled,  and  a 
dedication,  written  in  flowing  English,  to  Queen  Caroline 
was  substituted.  Descartes,  said  the  poet,  liad  inscribed 
Ills  "  Principles "  to  the  Princess  Palatine  Elizabeth,  not 
because  she  was  a  princess,  but  because  of  all  his  readers 
she  understood  him  best;  he  too,  without  presuming  to 
compare  himself  to  Descartes,  had  ventured  to  lay  his 
work  at  the  feet  of  a  queen  who  was  not  only  a  patroness 
of  all  arts  and  sciences,  but  the  best  judge  of  them  also. 
"  He  reminded  her  that  an  English  Queen,  the  great  Eliza- 
beth, had  been  the  protectress  of  Henry  IV.,  and  by 
whom,"  he  asked,  "  can  the  memory  of  Henry  be  so  well 
protected  as  by  one  who  so  much  resembles  Elizabeth  in 
her  personal  virtues?"  The  Queen  was  not  insensible  of 
the  honor  which  had  been  paid  her,  and  the  fortunate  poet 
received  a  substantial  mark  of  the  royal  gratitude.  It  is 
not  easy  to  determine  the  exact  sum.  Voltaire  himself 
states  it  to  have  been  two  thousand  crowns  {ecus),  which 
would,  supposing  he  means  English  crowns,  have  been 
equivalent  to  five  hundred  pounds  sterling.  Baculard  says 
it  was  "six  mille  livres."*  Nor  was  this  all.  The  King 
honored  him  with  his  intimacy,  and  invited  him  to  his 
private  supper  parties.f  Goldsmith  adds,  but  adds  errone- 
ously, that  the  Queen  presented  him  with  her  portrait.  A 
portrait  of  Queen  Caroline  Voltaire  certainly  possessed, 
but  it  was  a  medallion,  and  it  came  to  him,  not  from  the 
Queen  herself,  but  through  the  hands  of  the  Countess  de 
la  Lippe  from  the  Queen  of  Prussia.^  The  poem  suc- 
ceeded  beyond  his   most   sanguine   expectation.      Every 

*  rie'face  d'une  Edition  des  Qluvres  de  M.  de  Voltaire,  Longchamp 
ct  Wagniijie,  vol.  ii.,  p.  492. 
•j-  Ibid.,  same  page. 
X  Voltaire,  "  Correspondancc  Geu6rale,"  July  22d,  1Y28. 


228  ESSAYS. 

copy  of  tlic  quarto  impression  was  disposed  of  before  the 
day  of  publication.  In  the  octavo  form,  throe  editions 
were  exhausted  in  less  than  three  weeks,  *'  and  this  I  attrib- 
ute," he  says  in  n  letter  to  a  friend,  "  entirely  to  the  hap- 
py choice  of  the  subject,  and  not  to  the  merit  of  the  poem 
itself."  Owing  to  the  carelessness  of  Thieriot,  he  lost  tlie 
subscription  money  due  to  him  from  France,  but  the  sum 
realized  in  p]ngland  was  undoubtedly  considerable.  It  has 
been  variously  estimated:  Nicolardot,  in  his  "Menage  et 
Finances  de  Voltaire,"  calculates  it  to  have  been  ten  thou- 
sand francs ;  and  that  is  the  lowest  computation.  Bacnlard 
asserts  that  from  the  quarto  edition  {edition  imjmmee  loar 
souscriptions)  alone  the  poet  cleared  ten  thousand  crowns. 
Perhaps  we  should  not  be  far  wrong  if  we  estimated  the 
sum,  including  the  money  received  from  George  II.,  at  two 
thousand  pounds  sterling.  Whatever  it  was,  it  formed  the 
nucleus  of  the  most  princely  fortune  ever  yet  amassed  by 
a  man  of  letters.*  The  publication  of  the  "Ilenriade" 
involved  Voltaire  in  a  very  disagreeable  controversy  with 
two  of  his  countrymen.  He  had  out  of  pure  kindness 
given  permission  to  one  Coderc,  a  publisher  in  Little  New- 
port Street,  near  Leicester  Fields,  to  print  an  edition  of  the 
poem  for  his  own  benefit;  of  this  permission  Coderc  made 
an  assignment  to  another  publisher  named  Prevost.  Ac- 
cordingly in  March,  1728,  almost  immediately  after  the 
appearance  of  the  authentic  editions,  appeared  in  the  Daily 
Post  an  announcement  of  a  new  issue  of  the  "  Henriade." 
It  was  printed — so  it  was  stated — with  the  author's  privi- 
lege, and  to  tlie  advertisement  a  postscript  was  added  to 
the  effect  that  the  poem  now  appeared  for  the  first  time 

*  Carlyle  ("Life  of  Frederick,"  vol.  iii.,  p.  220)  computes  Voltaire's 
auniial  income  during  his  latter  years  to  have  been,  according  to  the 
money  value  of  the  present  day,  about  £20,000. 


VOLTAIRE    IN   ENGLAND.  229 

uncastratcd  and  in  its  integrity.  All  that  Prevost  had 
really  done  was  to  substitute  six  bad  verses,  taken  from 
the  poem  in  its  earlier  form,  for  six  good  verses  in  the 
later  recension.  Voltaire,  justly  annoyed  at  this  audacious 
stratagem  on  the  part  of  a  piratical  bookseller,  at  once  re- 
plied by  inserting  a  counter  advertisement  both  in  the 
Daihj  Post  and  in  the  Daily  Journal:  "This  is  to  give 
notice  that  I  never  gave  any  privilege  to  Prevost,  but  I 
was  betrayed  into  such  kindness  for  one  Coderc  as  to  grant 
him  leave  of  printing  my  book  for  his  own  benefit,  pro- 
vided he  should  sell  none  before  mine  had  been  delivered. 
It  is  a  thing  unheard  of  that  a  bookseller  dares  to  sell  my 
own  work  in  another  manner  than  I  have  printed  it  and 
call  my  own  edition  castrated.  The  truth  of  the  matter 
is  that  he  has  printed  six  bad  and  insignificant  low  lines, 
which  were  not  mine,  printed  in  a  former  edition  of  '  La 
Ligue,'  and  in  the  room  of  which  there  are  six  others  a 
great  deal  bolder  and  stronger  in  the  Ilenriade."*  To 
this  Prevost  replied  in  the  columns  of  the  same  paper,  de- 
fending the  course  he  had  taken,  and  flatly  contradicting 
wdiat  Voltaire  asserted.  The  two  notices  continued  to  ap- 
pear in  the  advertisement  sheet  of  the  Daily  Post  till  the 
end  of  March.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  contro- 
versy was  of  great  service  in  advertising  the  poem.  In- 
deed we  are  half  inclined  to  suspect  that  the  whole  thing 
was  got  up  by  Voltaire  for  that  purpose.  He  certainly 
bore  Prevost  no  ill-will  aftcrwards.f  The  money  realized 
from  the  sale  of  the  "  Ilenriade  "  was  the  more  acceptable 
as  it  was  sorely  needed.     For  upwards  of  a  year  he  had 

*  Daily  Post,  March  21,  1'728. 

f  For  the  controversy,  see  aJvertiseinent  slicets  of  the  Daily  Post 
from  March  21st  to  March  30th,  and  of  the  Daily  Journal  of  same 
date. 


230  ESSAYS. 

been  in  straightened  circumstances.  To  live  in  society 
was  then  an  expensive  luxury,  and  the  expenses  were  great- 
ly swelled  by  the  fees  which  the  servants  of  the  aristocracy 
were  permitted  to  levy  on  their  masters'  guests.  At  no 
house  in  London  did  the  abuse  reach  a  higher  pitch  than 
at  Lord  Chesterfield's ;  and  Voltaire,  who  dined  there  once, 
was  so  annoyed  at  the  imposition,  that,  on  Chesterfield 
asking  him  to  repeat  his  visit,  he  declined,  sarcastically 
adding  that  his  lordship's  ordinary  was  too  dear.*  His 
wretched  health  had,  moreover,  necessitated  medical  at- 
tendance and  thus  had  added  greatly  to  his  expenses.  As 
early  as  February,  1727,  we  find  him  complaining  of  these 
difficulties  to  Thieriot :  "  Vous  savez  peut-etre  que  Ics 
banqucroutes  sans  rcssource  que  j'ai  essuyees  en  Angle- 
terre  "  (an  allusion  of  course  to  his  mishap  with  Acosta), 
"  le  retranchement  de  mes  rentes,  la  perte  de  mes  pensions, 
ct  Ics  depenscs  que  m'ont  coutees  Ics  maladies  dont  j'ai 
ete  accable  ici,  m'ont  reduit  a  un  etat  bien  dur."f  He 
was  now  enabled  to  relieve  the  necessities  of  his  unfort- 
unate fellow-countrymen,  many  of  whom  were  assisted 
by  him  when  he  was  in  London,  particularly  one  St.  Hya- 
cinthe,| 

When  the  poem  was  passing  through  the  press  a  curious 
incident  occurred.  A  proof-sheet  of  the  first  page  had  by 
some  accident  found  its  way  into  the  hands  of  one  Dadichy, 
a  Smyrniote  Greek,  who  was  at  that  time  residing  as  an 
interpreter  in  London,  and  who  appears  to  have  been  a 
scholar  of  some  pretensions.  The  poem  then  opened,  not 
with  the  simple  ringing  verses  with  which  it  now  opens, 

*  John  Taylor's  "  Memoirs,"  vol.  i.,  p.  330. 
\  "  Correspondance  Generale,"  1727. 
X  Duvernet,  p.  72. 


VOLTAIRE   IN  ENGLAND.  231 

but  with  a  scries  of  verses  of  whicli  the  first  couplet  may 
serve  as  a  specimen  : 

"  Je  chante  les  combats  et  ce  roi  geucreux, 
Qui  for^a  les  Fraiicais  ;\  devenir  heureux." 

Tlie  man  whose  taste  had  been  formed  on  purer  models 
was  justly  offended  by  this  obscure  and  forced  epigram.  He 
made  his  way  to  Voltaire's  residence,  and  abruptly  announc- 
ing himself  as  the  "countryman  of  Homer,"  proceeded  to  in- 
form him  that  Homer  never  opened  his  poems  with  strokes 
of  wit  and  enigmas.  Voltaire  had  the  good  sense  to  take  the 
hint  given  him  by  his  eccentric  visitor,  and  the  lines  were 
altered  into  the  lines  with  which  all  the  world  is  familiar.* 
We  have  not,  after  a  careful  search,  been  able  to  find 
any  notice  or  critique  of  the  "  Henriade  "  in  journals  then 
current  in  London.  But  before  the  year  was  out  there  ap- 
peared in  an  edition,  published  by  a  firm  in  Russell  Street, 
Covent  Garden,  some  remarks  which  are,  no  doubt,  a  fair 
indication  of  the  impression  made  by  the  poem  on  the 
mind  of  contemporary  England.  The  writer,  who  writes 
in  French,  begins  by  observing  that  as  a  rule  he  cares  little 
for  French  poetry,  it  lacks  energy,  and  it  is  monotonous, 
but  in  the  "Henriade"  he  discerns  qualities  which  he  has 
not  discerned  elsewhere  in  the  verse  of  Frenchmen ;  it  is 
various,  brilliant,  and  forcible.  But  he  is,  he  says,  at  a  loss 
to  understand  how  a  poet  whose  conception  of  the  deity 
is  so  wise  and  noble  could  have  selected  for  his  hero  a 
character  so  contemptible  as  Henri  Quatre,  who  was  not 
merely  a  Papist  but  a  Papist  "  par  lache  interest."  f     He 

*  For  this  anecdote  sec  "  Henriade,"  Variantes  du  Chant  Premier. 

\  "  La  Henriade  dc  M^  de  Voltaire."  Secondc  edition  revue,  cor- 
rigee  ct  augmentee  de  rcmarqucs  critiques  sur  cet  ouvrage.  A  Lon- 
dres  chez  Woodman  et  Lyon,  dans  Russel  Street,  Covent  Garden,  1728. 


232  ESSAYS. 

is  angry  that  Voltaire  sliould,  throughout  the  poem,  lean 
so  decidedly  to  the  side  of  Popery ;  he  is  still  more  angry 
that  he  should  have  placed  on  the  same  footing  Popery 
and  Protestantism,  for  the  essence  of  Popery  is  intoler- 
ance, and  the  essence  of  Protestantism  is  enlightened  tolei*- 
ation.  "  You  arrived  in  our  island,"  he  goes  on  to  say, 
"  with  a  book  against  our  religion,  and  we  received  you 
with  open  arms,  our  king  and  our  queen  presented  yon 
with  money.  I  wonder,"  he  continues,  "how  an  English- 
man who  introduced  himself  to  Cardinal  FIcury  with  an 
attack  on  Popery  would  be  likely  to  fare."  lie  concludes 
by  hoping  that  Voltaire  will  continue  to  reside  in  England, 
and  he  exhorts  him  to  prepare  "  une  nouvelle  edition  moins 
Papiste  de  la  '  Ilcnriade.'  "  This  critique  purported  to  be 
the  work  of  an  English  nobleman.  It  was  in  reality  the 
work  of  a  French  refugee  named  Faget.  Voltaire  was 
greatly  amused  at  his  being  taken  for  a  Catholic  propa- 
gandist.* "  You  will  see,"  he  writes  in  a  letter  to  a  friend 
in  France,  "by  some  annotations  tacked  to  my  book,  and 
fathered  upon  an  English  lord,  that  I  am  here  a  confessor 
of  Catholic  religion."  To  this  criticism  he  made  no  reply 
during  his  residence  in  England,  but  on  its  reappearance 
nndcr  another  title  in  an  edition  of  the  "  Ilenriade"  printed 
at  the  Hague  he  answered  it. 

It  was  probably  during  his   sojourn   cither  in  Maiden 

*  And  it  is  not  less  amusing  to  us  to  find  him  thus  writing  to 
P^ro  Force :  "  Surtout,  nioii  reverend  pere,  je  vous  supphe  iiistiim- 
ment  de  vouloir  m'instruire  si  j'ai  parie  de  la  religion  conime  je  le 
dois ;  car,  s'il  y  a  sur  cct  article  quelques  expressions  qui  vous  de- 
plaisent  ne  doutez  pas  que  je  ne  les  corrige  a  la  premiere  edition  que 
Ton  pourra  faire  encore  de  mon  poeme.  T'ambitionne  votre  estime 
non  seulement  comme  auteur  mais  comme  Chretien." — Correspon' 
dance  Generate^  Annee  1*728. 


VOLTAIRE   IN   ENGLAND.  233 

Lane  or  in  Billiter  Square  that  his  adroitness  and  fluent 
mastery  over  our  language  saved  him  from  what  might 
otherwise  have  been  an  unpleasant  adventure.     He  chanced 
one  day  to  be  strolling  along  the  streets  when  his  peculiar 
appearance  attracted  attention.     A  crowd  collected,  and 
some  ribald  fellow  began  with  jeers  and  hoots  to  taunt  him 
with  being  a  Frenchman.     Nothing  is  so  easily  excited  as 
the  passions  of  a  rabble,  and  the  passions  of  a  rabble,  when 
their  victim   is  defenceless,  rarely  exhaust  themselves  in 
words.     The  miscreants  were  already  preparing  to  pelt 
him  with  mud,  and  mud  would  no  doubt  have  been  fol- 
lowed with  missiles  of  a  more  formidable  kind.     But  Vol- 
taire was  equal  to  the  crisis.     Boldly  confronting  his  as- 
sailants, he  mounted  on  a  stone  which  happened  to  be  at 
hand,  and  began  an  oration   of  which  the  first  sentence 
only  has  been  preserved.     "  Brave  Englishmen  !"  he  cried, 
"  am  I  not  sufficiently  unhappy  in  not  having  been  born 
among  you?"     IIow  he  proceeded  we  know  not,  but  his 
liarangue  was,  if  we  are  to  believe  Wagniere,  so  effective 
that  the  crowd  was  not  merely  appeased,  but  eager  to 
carry  him  on  their  shoulders  in  triumph  to  his  lodgings.* 
This  was  not  the  only  occasion  on  which  he  experienced 
the  rudeness  with  which  the  vulgar  were  in  those  days  ac- 
customed to  treat  his'  countrymen.     He  happened  to  be 
taking  the  air  on  the  river  when  one  of  the  men  in  charge 
of  the  boat,  perceiving  that  his  passenger  was  a  French- 
man, began  to  boast  of  the  superior  privileges  enjoyed  by 
English  subjects;  he  belonged,  he  said,  not  to  a  land  of 
slaves  but  to  a  land  of  freemen.    Warming  with  his  theme, 
the  fellow  concluded  his  offensive  remarks  by  exclaiming 
with  an  oath  that  he  would  rather  be  a  boatman  on  the 
Thames  than  an  archbishop  in  France.      The  sequel  of  the 
*  Longchamp  and  Wagniere,  vol.  i.,  p.  23. 


234  ESSAYS. 

story  is  amusing.  Within  a  few  hours  the  man  liad  been 
seized  by  a  press-gang,  and  next  day  Voltaire  saw  liim  at 
tlie  window  of  a  prison  with  his  legs  ninnacled  and  his 
hand  stretched  through  the  bars,  craving  alms.  "  What 
think  you  now  of  a  French  archbishop?"  he  cried.  "Ah, 
sir!"  replied  the  captive,  "the  abominable  government 
liave  forced  me  away  from  my  wife  and  children  to  serve 
in  a  king's  ship,  and  have  thrown  me  into  prison  and 
chained  my  feet  for  fear  I  should  escape  before  the  ship 
sails."  A  French  gentleman  who  was  with  Voltaire  at  the 
time  owned  that  he  felt  a  malicious  pleasure  at  seeing  that 
the  English,  who  were  so  fond  of  taunting  their  neighbors 
with  servitude,  were  in  truth  quite  as  much  slaves  them- 
selves, "But  I,"  adds  Voltaire  in  one  of  those  noble  re- 
flections which  so  often  flash  across  his  pages,  "  felt  a  sen- 
timent more  humane :  I  was  grieved  to  think  that  there 
was  so  little  liberty  on  the  earth."* 

It  appears  from  Atterbury's  "  Correspondence,"  that 
about  the  time  the  "  Ilenriade  "  was  published  Voltaire 
had  also  published  an  ode  written  in  English,  but  of  that 
ode,  after  a  most  careful  search,  we  have  been  able  to  find 
no  tracc.f 

SECTION  III. 

APRIL,  1728— MARCn,  1729. 

As  soon  as  the  "  Henriade  "  was  off  his  hands  he  ap- 
plied himself  steadily  to  his  History  of  Charles  XII.  In 
the  composition  of  this  delightful  biography,  which  he  ap- 

*  See  for  the  whole  story  his  Letter  to  M***,  "  (Euvres  Completes  " 
(Beuchot),  vol.  xxxviii.,  p.  22. 

t  See  Atterbury's  "  Correspondence,"  vol.  iv.,  p.  114.  Nicholls  (see 
his  note)  was  equally  unsuccessful. 


VOLTAIRE  IN  ENGLAND.  235 

pears  to  Lave  began  as  early  as  1727,  he  was  greatly  as- 
sisted by  Von  Fabricc.  Few  men  then  living  knew  more 
of  the  public  and  private  life  of  the  great  Swede  than  Fa- 
brice,  and  what  he  knew  he  liberally  communicated.  Much 
useful  information  was  derived  from  Bolingbroke  and  the 
Dowager  Duchess  of  Marlborough.  But  Charles  XII,  was 
not  the  only  work  with  which  he  was  occupied.  He  be- 
gan, prompted  by  Bolingbroke  and  inspired  by  Shake- 
speare and  Leo,  the  tragedy  of  "  Brutus,"  the  first  act  of 
which  he  sketched  in  English  prose.  We  give  a  short 
specimen  of  the  original  draught,  which  the  reader  may 
find  it  interesting  to  compare  with  the  corresponding  pas- 
sage in  the  French  text  as  it  now  stands.  It  is  the  speech 
of  Brutus  in  the  second  scene  of  the  first  act : 

^^ Brutus.  Allege  not  ties:  his  (Tarquiu's)  crimes  have  broken 
them  all.  The  gods  themselves,  whom  he  has  offended,  have  de- 
clared against  him.  Which  of  our  rights  has  he  not  trod  upon? 
True,  we  have  sworn  to  be  his  subjects,  but  wc  have  not  sworn  to  be 
his  slaves.  You  say  you've  seen  our  Senate,  in  humble  suppliance, 
pay  him  their  vows.  Even  he  himself  has  sworn  to  be  our  father, 
and  make  the  people  happy  in  his  guidance.  Broken  from  his  oaths, 
we  are  let  loose  from  ours.  Since  he  has  transgressed  our  laws,  his 
is  the  rebellion.     Rome  is  free  from  guilt." 

This  tragedy,  which  he  completed  on  his  return  to 
Paris,  he  dedicated  to  Bolingbroke.  Mr.  Parton  in  his 
list  of  Voltaire's  writings  enters  among  them  an  edition 
of  "Brutus,"  published  in  London  in  1727.  Of  that  edi- 
tion after  a  laborious  search  we  can  find  no  trace.  It  was 
certainly  unknown  to  Desnoiresterres,  to  Beuchot,  and  to 
all  the  editors ;  and — what  is,  we  think,  final — there  is  no 
mention  of  it  in  the  exhaustive  bibliography  of  Voltaire, 
just  published  by  M.  Georges  Bengesco.  Mr.  Parton  has, 
we  suspect,  been  misled  by  an  ambiguous  paragraph  at  the 


236  ESSAYS. 

end  of  tlic  preface  to  tlic  fourth  edition  of  the  "Essay  on 
Epic  Poetry." 

At  Wandsworth,  or  possibly  in  London,  he  sketched  also 
another  tragedy,  a  tragedy  which  was  not,  however,  com- 
pleted till  1 V34.  This  was  "  La  Mort  de  Cesar,"  suggested, 
as  we  need  scarcely  say, by  the  masterpiece  of  Shalvcspeare.* 
Meanwhile  (end  of  1V28)  he  was  engaged  in  the  composi- 
tion of  those  charming  letters  which  were  afterwards  pub- 
lished in  English  under  the  title  of  "Letters  concerning  the 
English  Nation,"  and  in  French  under  the  title  of  "Lettres 
Philosophiques."  They  were  addressed  to  his  friend  Thie- 
riot,  and  under  Thieriot's  auspices  (par  les  soins  de  Thie- 
riot)  were  translated  into  English.  The  publication  of  the 
English  translation  preceded  the  publication  of  the  French 
original.  The  first  French  editions  appeared  in  17.34,  but 
two  editions  had  appeared  in  English  during  the  preceding 
year,  one  printed  in  London,  and  the  other  in  Dublin,  But 
the  indefatigable  energy  of  Voltaire  did  not  exhaust  itself 
in  study  and  composition.  It  appears  from  Duvernet,  that 
lie  attempted  to  open  a  permanent  French  theatre  in  Lon- 
don, and  with  this  object  he  induced  a  company  of  Parisian 
actors  to  come  over ;  but  the  project  met  with  so  little  en- 
couragement that  he  was  forced  to  abandon  it,  and  the 
company  went  back  almost  immediately  to  Paris.f 

In  the  midst  of  these  multifarious  pursuits  he  had  found 
time  to  peruse  almost  everything  of  note  both  in  our  poet- 
ry and  in  our  prose,  lie  began  with  Shakespeare,  whose 
principal  dramas  he  studied  with  minute  attention,  analyz- 
ing the  structure,  the  characterization,  the  diction.  His 
criticisms  on  Shakespeare  are,  it  is  true,  seldom  cited  ex- 
cept to  be  laughed  at,  but  the  defects  of  these  criticisms 

*  See"(Euvrcs  Completes"  (edit.  18'7'7),  vol.  ii.,  note. 
f  Duvernet,  p.  72. 


VOLTAIRE    IN  ENGLAND.  237 

originated  neither  from  ignorance  nor  from  inattention. 
His  real  opinion  of  Sliakespeare  is  not  to  be  gathered 
from  the"Dcs  Theatres  Anghiis"  and  from  the  "  Lettres 
a  rAcademie,"  but  from  the  "  Lettres  Philosophiques " 
and  from  the  admirable  letter  to  Horace  AValpole.*  The 
influence  of  Shakespeare  on  Voltaire's  own  tragedies  is 
very  perceptible,  and  the  extent  of  that  influence  will  be 
at  once  apparent  if  we  compare  the  plays  produced  before 
his  visit  to  England  with  the  plays  produced  on  his  return 
to  France,  if  we  compare  "  Q^dipe,"  "  Artemise,"  and  "Ma- 
rianne," with  "  Brutus,"  "  Eryphile,"  and  "  Zaire."  "  Bru- 
tus" and  "  La  Mort  de  Cesar"  flowed  not  more  certainly 
from  Julius  Caesar  than  "Zaire"  from  "Othello;"  while 
reminiscences  of  "Hamlet"  arc  unmistakable  both  in  "Ery- 
phile" and  in  "Semiramis."  The  first  three  acts  of  "Ju- 
lius Csesar  "  he  subsequently  translated  into  French,  and  he 
has  in  the  "Lettres  Philosophiques"  given  an  admirable 
version  of  the  famous  soliloquy  in  "Hamlet."  Milton  he 
studied,  as  his  "  Essay  on  Epic  Poetry  "  and  his  article  on 
the  Epopee  f  prove,  with  similar  diligence.  He  had,  in 
addition  to  "  Paradise  Lost,"  read  "  Paradise  Regained  " 
and  "  Samson  Agonistes,"  neither  of  which  he  thought  of 
much  value.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  the  poems,  the 
dramas,  and  the  essays  of  Dryden,  and  with  the  writings 
of  Dry  den's  contemporaries.  Garth's  J  "Dispensary"  he 
carefully  studied,  and  places  above  the  "  Lutrin."  Even 
such  inferior  poets  as  Oldham,  Roscommon,  Dorset,  Shef- 
field, Halifax,  and  Rochester  had  not  escaped  his  curious 
eye.  Rochester,  indeed,  he  pronounced  to  be  a  poet  of 
great  genins;  be  puts  his  satires  on  a  level  with  those  of 

*  Dated  Ferncy,  July,  1768.    "  Correspondancc  Gencrale,"  vol.  xiv. 
f  "  Dictionnaire  Philosophiquc,"  article  "  Epop6c." 
:J:  Ihid.,  article  '•  Burlesque." 


238  ESSAYS. 

Boilcau,  and  in  one  of  the  " Pliilosoplilcal  Letters"  (tlie 
twenty-first)  lie  turns  a  portion  of  the  satire  on  Man  into 
French  heroics.  With  the  poems  of  Denham  he  was  great- 
ly pleased ;  and  of  Waller,  Avhose  "  Eleg-y  on  the  Death  of 
Cromwell"  he  has  translated  into  French  verse,  he  speaks 
in  terms  of  enthusiastic  admiration,  ranking  him  above 
Voitnre,  and  observing  that  "his  serious  compositions  ex- 
hibit a  strength  and  vigor  which  could  not  have  been  ex- 
pected from  the  softness  and  fluency  of  his  other  pieces." 
He  read  Otway,  whom  singularly  enough  he  underrated, 
and  of  whose  "  Orphan  "  he  has,  in  his  "  Appel  a  Toutes 
les  Nations,"  given  a  sarcastic  analysis.  lie  was  acquaint- 
ed with  Lee's  tragedies,  and  he  enjoyed  the  comedies  of 
Wycherley,  Vanbrugh,  and  Congreve,  on  which  he  has  left 
many  just  and  interesting  observations.  Indeed  he  did 
Vanbrugh  the  honor  to  steal  from  him  many  of  the  inci- 
dents, most  of  the  characters,  and  the  whole  of  the  under- 
plot of  the  "  Relapse."  It  is  singular  that  the  French  edi- 
tors who  are  careful  to  point  out  that  "  Le  Comte  de  Bour- 
souffle  Coraedie  Bouflfe"  is  merely  a  recast  of  "L'Echange 
Comedie  en  trois  actes,"  should  have  omitted  to  notice  that 
both  of  them  are  simply  Vanbrugh's  play  in  a  French  dress. 
But  nothing  illustrates  his  mastery  over  our  language 
and  his  power  of  entering  into  the  spirit  of  our  literature, 
even  when  that  literature  is  most  esoteric,  so  strikingly  as 
his  remarks  on  "Iludibras."  "I  never  found," ie  says, 
"so  much  wit  in  any  single  book  as  that.  It  is  'Don 
Quixote'  and  the  'Satire  Menippee'  blended  together." 
Of  the  opening  lines  he  has,  in  the  "  Lettres  Philosophiques," 
given  a  French  version,  reproducing  with  extraordinary  fe- 
licity both  the  metre  and  the  spirit.  With  not  less  pleas- 
ure he  perused  the  poems  of  Prior.  In  the  "  Philosophical 
Dictionary  "  he  devotes  an  article  to  him,  and  in  another 


VOLTAIRE   IN   ENGLiVND.  239 

article  lie  pauses  to  draw  attention  to  the  merits  of  "Alma." 
With  the  essays  and  poems  of  Addison,  whom  he  pro- 
nounces to  be  the  best  critic  as  well  as  the  best  writer  of 
his  age,  he  was  well  acquainted.*  His  "Allegories"  he 
has  imitated  ;  f  his  "  Campaign  "  he  took  as  the  model  for 
"  Fontenoy ;"  from  his  criticism  on  Milton  he  has  bor- 
rowed;  and  his  "Cato"  he  placed  at  the  head  of  English 
tragedies.  Indeed,  he  has  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that  the 
principal  character  in  that  drama  is  the  "  greatest  that  was 
ever  brought  upon  any  stage."  His  observations  upon  the 
defects  of  the  play  are  less  open  to  question,  and  prove 
that  if  he  had  the  bad  taste  to  prefer  Addison  to  Shake- 
speare, he  was  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  history  of 
our  drama  to  be  able  to  point  out  in  what  way  the  appear- 
ance of  "  Cato  "  marked  an  era  in  its  development.  To 
the  genius  of  Swift  he  paid  enthusiastic  homage.  He 
owed,  he  said,  to  Swift's  writings  the  love  he  bore  to  the 
Eno-lish  lano-uafre.  lie  considered  him  immeasurably  su- 
perior  to  Rabelais;  and  he  was  so  delighted  with  "Gulli- 
ver's Travels"  that  he  encouraged  his  friend  Thicriot  to 
undertake  a  translation  of  them  into  French,  judiciously 
advising  him,  however,  to  confine  his  efforts  to  the  first 
part.  His  own  "  Micromegas  "  is  largely  indebted  to  "  Gul- 
liver." Nor  did  his  nice  and  discriminating  appreciation 
end  here.  Voltaire  was  the  first  critic  who  drew  attention 
to  the  peculiar  merits  of  Swift's  verses.J 

With  the  poems  and  tragedies  of  Thomson  he  was,  as  a 

*  For  bis  remarks  on  Cato,  sec  "  Dictionnaire  rhilosophiqiie,"  ar- 
ticle "Addison,"  where  he  gives  a  French  version  of  Cato's  Soliloquy. 

t  See  particularly  the  Vision  in  section  ii.  of  the  article  on  "  Re- 
ligion "  in  the  "  Philosophical  Dictionary." 

J  "  Lettres  rhilosophiqiies,"  xxii. ;  see,  too,  "  Lettres,  A.  S.  A.  M°' 
Lc  Prince  Melanges,"  v.  480. 


240  ESSAYS. 

very  interesting  letter  to  George,  Lord  Lyttelton,  shows,* 
thoroughly  conversant.  "  I  was  acquainted,"  so  runs  the 
letter,  which  is  written  in  English  and  is  dated  Paris,  May 
17,  1750  (n.s.),  "  with  Mr.  Thomson  when  I  stayed  in  Eng- 
land. I  discovered  in  him  a  great  genius  and  a  great  sim- 
plicity. I  liked  in  him  the  poet  and  the  true  philosopher, 
I  mean  the  lover  of  mankind.  I  think  that  without  a  good 
stock  of  such  a  philosophy  a  poet  is  just  above  a  fiddler 
■who  amuses  our  cars  and  cannot  go  to  our  soul.  I  am  not 
surprised  your  nation  has  done  more  justice  to  Mr.  Thom- 
son's 'Seasons'  than  to  his  dramatic  performances."  As 
this  letter  is  an  interesting  specimen  of  Voltaire's  compo- 
sition nearly  twenty  years  after  he  had  left  us,  our  readers 
may  perhaps  like  to  see  more  of  it.  We  will,  therefore, 
transcribe  a  few  paragraphs,  lie  is  accounting  for  the 
comparative  indifference  with  which  the  English  public 
regarded  Thomson's  tragedies. 

"There  is  one  kind  of  poetry  of  which  the  judicious  readers  and 
tlie  men  of  taste  are  the  proper  judges.  There  is  another  kind,  that 
depends  on  the  vulgar  great  or  small ;  tragedy  and  comedy  are  of 
these  last  species ;  they  must  be  suited  to  the  turn  of  mind  and  pro- 
portioned to  their  taste.  Your  nation  two  hundred  years  since  is  used 
to  a  wild  scene,  to  a  crowd  of  tumultuous  events,  to  an  emphatical 
poetry  mixed  with  low  and  comical  expressions,  to  a  lively  represen- 
tation of  bloody  deeds,  to  a  kind  of  horror  which  seems  often  bar- 
barous and  childish,  all  faults  which  never  sullied  the  Greek,  the 
Roman,  and  the  French  stage.  And  give  me  leave  to  say  that  the 
taste  of  your  politest  countrymen  differs  not  much  in  point  of  tragedy 
from  the  taste  of  the  mob  at  bear-gardens.  'Tis  true  we  have  too 
much  of  action,  and  the  perfection  of  tiiis  art  should  consist  in  a  due 
mixture  of  the  French  taste  and  the  English  energy.  .  .  .  Mr.  Thom- 
son's tragedies  seem  to  me  wisely  intricated  and  elegantly  writ.    They 

*  This  letter  is  among  the  archives  at  Hagley,  and  I  am  indebted 
for  a  copy  of  it  to  the  great  kindness  of  Lord  Lyttelton. 


VOLTAIRE   IX   ENGLAND.  241 

want,  perhaps,  some  fire,  and  it  may  be  that  his  heroes  arc  neither 
moving  nor  busy  enougli,  but  taking  him  all  in  all,  methiuks  lie  has 
the  highest  claims  to  the  greatest  esteem." 

The  poetry  of  Pope  lie  read  and  reread  with  an  admi- 
ration which  occasionally  expresses  itself  in  hyperbole.  The 
"  Essays  on  Criticism "  he  preferred  both  to  the  master- 
piece of  Ilorace  and  to  the  "  Art  Poetique  "  of  Boileau ; 
the  "Rape  of  the  Lock"  he  considered  the  best  mock  he- 
roic poem  in  existence;  and  the  "Essay  on  Man,"  which 
appeared  about  five  years  after  lie  had  returned  to  France, 
he  describes  as  "  the  most  beautiful  didactic  poem — the 
most  useful — the  most  sublime — that  lias  ever  been  writ- 
ten in  any  language."* 

It  would  be  interesting  to  trace  the  influence  of  Pope's 
poetry  upon  Voltaire's.  We  can  here  only  pause  to  point 
out  that  the  "Temple  dn  Goiit"  was  undoubtedly  sug- 
gested by  the  "Diinciad,"  that  the  "  Le  Desastre  de  Lis- 
bonne"  and  the  "  Discourse  en  vers  sur  I'Uomme  "  bear  the 
impress  of  the  "  Essay  on  Man,"  and  that  "  La  Roi  Natu- 
relle"  was  certainly  modelled  on  it. 

At  the  beginning  of  1729  he  prepared  to  quit  England 
for  his  native  country.  There  was  now,  indeed,  nothing  to 
detain  him.  He  had  published  the  "  Ilenriade ;"  he  had 
completed  his  collections  for  the  "Lettres  Philosophiques;" 
he  had  collected  materials  for  the  "  Siecle  de  Louis  XIV.," 
and  for  the  "  History  of  Charles  XII. ;"  he  had  made  what 
friends  he  cared  to  make ;  he  had  seen  all  he  wished  to 
see ;  and,  what  was  of  equal  importance  to  him,  he  had 
made  money.     But  it  would  be  doing  him  great  injustice 

*  See,  too,  "  Tarallelc  d'lloracc,  de  Boileau,  ct  de  Tope,"  where  he 
says  of  the  Essa}',  "  Jamais  vers  ne  formeret  tant  dc  grandes  ideos  en 
si  pcu  de  paroles."  —  MHangcs,  vol.  iii.,  p.  224.  See,  too,  "Lettres 
Philosophiiiues,"  xxii. 

11 


242  ESSAYS. 

to  suppose  that  tlie  only  tics  which  bound  him  to  England 
were  tics  of  self-interest.  He  had  become  sincerely  at- 
tached to  the  country  and  to  the  people.  "  Had  I  not 
been  obliged,"  he  said  in  a  letter  to  Thieriot,  "  to  look  af- 
ter my  affairs  in  France,  depend  upon  it  I  would  have 
spent  the  rest  of  my  days  in  Loudon."  And  again,  many 
years  afterwards,  he  wrote  in  a  letter  to  his  friend  Keate : 
"  Had  I  not  fixed  the  seat  of  my  retreat  in  the  free  corner 
of  Geneva  I  would  certainly  live  in  the  free  corner  of  Eng- 
land. I  have  been  for  thirty  years  the  disciple  of  your 
ways  of  thinking."*  The  kindness  and  hospitality  which 
he  received  he  never  forgot,  and  he  took  every  opportuni- 
ty of  repaying  it.  To  be  an  Englishman  was  always  a  cer- 
tain passport  to  his  coui'teous  consideration.  When,  in 
1776,  Martin  Sherlock  visited  him  at  Ferney  he  found  the 
old  man,  then  in  his  eighty-third  year,  still  full  of  his  visit 
to  England,  lie  had  had  the  garden  laid  out  in  the  Eng- 
lish fashion ;  the  books  with  which  he  was  surrounded 
were  the  English  classics,  the  subject  to  which  he  persist- 
ently directed  the  conversation  was  the  English  nation. f 

His  departure  from  England  is  said  to  have  been  hast- 
ened by  a  quarrel  with  his  bookseller,  Prevost;  and  a 
story  was  afterwards  circulated  by  Desfontaines,  that,  pre- 
vious to  his  departure,  he  was  severely  cudgelled  by  an  in- 
furiated member  of  the  trade — for  what  reason,  and  under 
what  circumstances,  is  not  recorded. J  However  this  may 
be,  it  seems  clear  that  he  had  either  done  or  said  something 
which  had  made  him  enemies:  there  was  certainly  an  im- 

*  Voltaire  to  Keate,  January  Ifi,  1*760,  British  Mus.  Addit.  MSS. 
30,991. 

f  "Letters  from  an  English  Traveller"  (Letter  xxiv.). 

If.  Sec  "La  Voltairomanie,"  p.  37,  and  of.  Desnoircstcrrcs,  "La 
Jcuucsso  do  Voltaire,"  p.  397. 


VOLTAIRE  IX  ENGLAND.  243 

prcssion  iu  the  minds  of  some  tliat  ho  quitted  England  un- 
der a  cloud.  In  a  notice  of  the  "  History  of  Charles  XII." 
in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  for  May,  1732,  the  writer  as- 
serts that  "  Mr.  Voltaire  enriched  himself  with  our  con- 
tributions and  behaved  so  ill  that  he  was  refused  admit- 
tance into  those  noblemen's  and  gentlemen's  families  in 
which  he  had  been  received  with  great  favor  and  distinc- 
tion, lie  left  England  full  of  resentment,  and  wrote  the 
King  of  Sweden's  Life  to  abuse  this  nation  and  the  Hano- 
verian family."  The  latter  statement  is,  as  we  need  scarce- 
ly say,  quite  untrue ;  the  former  statement  is  as  plainly  a 
gross  exaggeration.  A  very  disgraceful  story  connected 
with  his  departure  from  England  appeared  some  years 
later  in  the  columns  of  the  same  periodical.*  It  is  there 
stated  that  Peterborough,  wishing  to  have  a  certain  work 
written,  had  commissioned  Voltaire,  then  his  guest,  to  do 
it,  and  had  supplied  him  from  time  to  time  with  the  mon- 
ey necessary  to  defray  the  expenses  of  publication.  But 
these  sums,  instead  of  paying  them  over  to  the  publisher, 
who  had,  on  the  strength  of  the  first  instalment,  put  a  por- 
tion of  the  work  into  type,  Voltaire  appropriated  to  his 
own  use.  He  then  proceeded  to  play  a  double  game.  He 
lold  the  publisher,  who  for  want  of  funds  had  stopped  the 
press,  that  Peterborough  would  advance  nothing  further 
till  the  book  was  out.  To  Peterborough,  on  the  other 
hand,  lie  accounted  for  the  delay  in  publication  by  attrib- 
uting it  to  the  dilatoriness  of  the  publisher.  At  last  the 
publisher,  justly  considering  that  he  had  been  treated  very 
hardly,  determined  to  apply  to  Peterborough  himself. 
With  this  object  he  liad  an  interview  with  him  at  Par- 
son's Green.     All  was  explained.     The  carl,  so  far  from 

*  Sec  a  letter  to  the  editor  of  the  Gcntlcmaii's  Magazine,  vol.  Ixvii., 
part  ii.,  p.  S20  sqq.^  signed  E.  L.  B.,  in  the  number  for  October,  HO?. 


244  ESSAYS. 

being  guilty  of  tlio  injustice  and  meanness  attributed  to 
him  by  Voltaire,  had  regularly  advanced  the  money  re- 
quired, as  Voltaire  had  regularly  retained  it.  Peterbor- 
ough's rage  knew  no  bounds.  He  drew  his  sword  and 
rushed  at  his  treacherous  guest,  who  happened  to  come  up 
in  the  course  of  the  interview,  and  it  was  only  by  a  [)recip- 
itate  flight  that  Voltaire  escaped  mortal  injury.  That 
night  lie  concealed  himself  in  a  neighboring  village,  Next 
day  he  returned  to  London,  and  almost  immediately  after- 
wards he  left  England  for  the  Continent.  This  story  no 
one  would  wish  to  believe,  and  there  is  happily  strong  rea- 
son for  doubting  its  truth.  In  the  first  place,  it  did  not 
appear  till  nearly  seventy  years  after  the  supposed  event. 
It  is  related  by  an  anonymous  writer,  on  anonymous  aii- 
thorit}^  and  it  appears  in  a  letter  obviously  animated  with 
the  most  violent  hostility  to  Voltaire.  Nor  is  there,  so  far 
as  we  know,  any  allusion  to  it  elsewhere. 

Before  setting  out  he  went  down  to  Twickenham,  to 
have  a  final  interview  with  Pope.  "I  am  come,"  he  said, 
"  to  bid  farewell  to  a  man  who  never  treated  me  serionsly 
from  the  first  hour  of  my  acquaintance  Avith  him  to  the 
present  moment."  To  this  Pope — who,  as  soon  as  Vol- 
taire's back  was  turned,  acknowledged  the  justice  of  the 
remark — probably  replied  with  evasive  politeness,  or  with 
an  emphatic  assurance  to  the  contrary ;  for  it  is  certain 
that  in  none  of  Voltaire's  subsequent  writings  are  there 
any  indications  either  of  unfriendliness  or  ill-will  towards 
him.  And  it  is  equally  certain  that,  had  he  quitted  Pope 
under  the  impression  that  he  had  been  ill-treated  by  him, 
his  vengeance  would  have  been  sure,  prompt,  and  signal.* 

*  The  authority  for  this  is  Owen  Ruffhead  ("Life  of  rope,"  p. 
165),  who  ahiiost  certainly  had  the  anecdote,  which  was  coauminicat- 
ed  by  Pope  himself,  from  Warburton. 


VOLTAIRE   IX   ENGLAND.  245 

The  exact  date  of  Yoltaire's  departure  from  England  wo 
have  not  been  able  to  discover.  "We  may,  however,  con- 
jecture with  some  certainty  that  it  took  place  during  the 
second  or  third  week  in  March,  1729  (n.  s.).  In  a  letter 
to  Thieriot,  dated — but  ^YltllOut  the  month — 1729,  he  says 
that  he  hopes  to  be  in  Paris  about  the  loth  of  March.  In 
another  letter  to  Thieriot,  dated  the  10th  of  March,  1729, 
he  writes,  "In  all  likelihood  I  shall  stay  at  Saint-Ger- 
main, and  there  I  intend  to  arrive  before  the  15th.  On 
the  25th  of  March  he  was  certainly  at  Saint -Germain.* 
It  is  probable,  then,  that  he  left  England  between  the  10th 
and  the  20th  of  March,  1729  (n.  s.).  The  time,  therefore, 
spent  by  Voltaire  in  England  was,  deducting  a  month  for 
his  short  visit  to  France  in  the  summer  of  1720,  about  two 
years  and  eight  months,  and  not,  as  Carlyle  and  others  er- 
roneously assert,  two  years. 

•"•  In  his  Correspondence  (vol.  i.  of  the  last  edition  of  the  "  (Euvres 
Completes")  there  is  a  letter  to  Thieriot,  dated  from  Saint-Gcrmain- 
cn-Layc,  March  2,  1729,  a  date  which,  as  the  letter  of  March  10th 
proves,  is  certainly  erroneous. 


NOTE. 

"  We  owe  io  Voltuire  the  famous  storij  of  the  faUliKj  appJer— 
Pugo  207. 

The  history  of  the  preservation  of  this  anecdote  is  interest- 
ing, and  it  may  be  well  perhaps  fur  nie  to  justify  what  is  as- 
serted in  the  text,  that  we  owe  its  jireservation  to  Voltaire. 
It  i^  not,  so  far  as  I  can  discover,  to  be  found  in  any  publica- 
tion antecedent  to  the  "Lettres  snr  les  Anglais."  It  is  not 
mentioned  by  Newton\s  friend  Whiston  in  his  "  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton's Mathematical  Philosophy  More  Easily  Demonstrated," 
published  in  171G.  Nor  is  it  mentioned  by  Fontenelle  in  his 
Eloge  of  Newton  delivered  in  1727,  and  inserted  in  the  follow- 
ing year  in  the  "  Histoire  de  rAcademie  des  Sciences,"  nor  in 
the  "Life  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton,"  published  in  London  in  1728. 
It  is  not  recorded  by  Henry  Pembertou  in  his  "View  of  New- 
ton's Philosophy,"  1728,  though  Pembertou  does  record  that 
Newton  was  sitting  in  a  garden  when  the  first  notion  of  his 
great  theory  occurred  to  him.  P(;inberton's  words  are,  "  Tlio 
first  thoughts  which  gave  rise  to  his  '  Principia'  he  had  when 
he  retired  from  Cambridge  in  1666  on  account  of  the  Plague. 
As  he  sat  alone  in  a  garden,  he  fell  into  a  speculation  on  the 
power  of  gravity."  It  would  seem,  too,  that  the  story  was  not 
known  to  Newton's  intimate  friend,  Dr.  Stukely,  for  Stnkcly 
says  nothing  about  it  in  his  long  letter  to  Dr.  Mead  (printed  in 
Turner's  Collections  for  the  History  of  Grantham),  written  just 
after  the  philosopher's  death,  and  containing  many  particulars 
about  Newton's  life  and  studies.  But  it  was  apparently  known 
to  Martin  Folkes,  then  Fellow,  and  subsequently  President  of 
the  Koyal  Society,  and  by  him  communicated  to  Robert  Green, 


NOTE.  247 

wbo  iu  bis  "  Miscellaue.a  Qiia>tlam  Philosopliica,"  appeiulotl  to 
liis  "  Principles  of  the  Pliilosopliy  of  the  Expausive  and  Con- 
structive Forces,"  published  in  1727,  thus  obscurely,  or  rather 
enigmatically,  alludes  to  it  (p.  972) :  "  Qua;  sententia — i.e.,  tbo 
doctrine  of  gravitation — origiueiu  duxit,  uti  oninis,  ut  fertur, 
cognitio  nostra,  a  porno ;  id  quod  accepi  ab  iugeuiosissimo  at 
doctissinio  viro  ,  .  .  Martiuo  Folkes  Arniigero  Regia;  vcro  Socie- 
tatis  socio  uieritissimo."  But  it  Avas  first  recorded  in  the  form 
in  which  Voltaire  gives  it  by  John  Conduit,  a  A'cry  intimate 
friend  of  Newton,  and  the  husband  of  his  niece,  who  in  1727 
drew  up  a  uumber  of  notes  containing  particulars  of  Newton's 
life  for  the  use  of  Fontenelle,  then  engaged  in  preparing  bis 
Eloge.  Fontenelle,  however,  made  no  use  of  the  ancetlote,  aud 
Conduit's  uotes  remaiued  in  manuscript  till  1806,  when  they 
were  printed  by  Edmund  Tui-ner  in  his  Collections  for  the 
History  of  Grantham  (p.  160).  Conduit's  words  are,  "In  the 
year  1665,  when  be  retired  to  hi.s  owu  estate  on  account  of  the 
Plague,  he  first  thought  of  his  system  of  gravitation,  which  he 
did  upon  observing  an  apple  fall  from  a  tree."  Voltaire's  first 
account  is  in  the  fifteenth  of  the  "  Lettres  sur  les  Anglais," 
published  iu  1733  or  possibly  earlier,  aud  it  runs  thus :  "  S'^tant 
retir^  en  1666  a  la  campague  pr^s  de  Cambridge,  un  jour  qu'il 
se  promcnait  dans  son  jardiu  et  qu'il  voyait  des  fruits  tombcr 
d'un  arbre,  il  se  lai.ssa  aller  a  une  mMitation  profonde  sur  cetto 
Iiesauteur,  dont  tons  les  philosophes  out  cherchd  si  longtemps 
la  cause  en  vain."  Relating  the  anecdote  afterwards  in  his 
"Elements  de  la  Philosoiihie  de  Newtou,"  part  iii.,  chap,  iii.,  he 
gives. his  authority :  "  Uu  jour  en  I'annce  1666  Newton  retira  b, 
la  campague,  et  voyant  toniber  des  fruits  d'un  arbre,  a  ce  (jf/ze 
Mt'a  cotitesa  niece  Madame  Conduit,  se  laissa  aller,"  etc.  It  is  sat- 
isfactory, therefore,  to  know  that  the  anecdote  rests  on  the  best 
authority,  that,  uamely,  of  Newton's  favorite  disciple  and  of  the 
iiicco  who  lived  with  him,  as  it  is  interesting  to  know  that  Vol- 
taire was  the  first  to  give  it  to  the  world. 


INDEX. 


Abrantes,  Duke  of,  announces  succession  to  Spanish  inonarcliy,  29. 

Addison,  Joseph,  Voltaire's  opinion  of,  239. 

Alvcnside,  Mark,  liis  indebtedness  to  Bolingbroke,  15;  writes  against 
Walpole,  m. 

Alaii,  correspondence  witli  Bolingbroke,  9. 

Amhurst,  Nicholas,  his  abilities  and  antecedents,  137;  Editor  of 
Craftsman,  138. 

Anne,  Queen,  her  accession  to  the  throne,  34 ;  disUke  to  Godolphia 
and  to  his  Ministry,  40;  discourtesy  to  Godolphin,  45;  opens  Par- 
liament, 69;  is  only  conditionally  averse  to  the  Pretender,  10,  71 ; 
has  an  apoplectic  fit,  74 ;  dies,  76. 

Arbuthnot,  Dr.,  writes  for  peace  being  signed,  57. 

Arouet,  Francois  {vide  Voltaire). 

Atterbury,  Francis,  writes  for  peace  being  signed,  57 ;  is  in  favor  of 
appealing  to  nation  and  declaring  open  war  with  Hanover,  81 ; 
meets  Bolingbroke  when  going  into  exile,  121. 

Aubigny,  designer  of  chateau  Chantaloup,  165. 

Bacon  (Lord  Verulam):  Voltaire's  knowledge  of  his  writings,  219. 

Bathurst,  Lord :  "  Letter  on  the  true  use  of  Study  and  Retirement," 
by  Bolingbroke,  addressed  to,  167. 

Beaufort,  Duke  of,  congratulating  Queen  Anne,  47. 

Bcngesco,  George,  bibliographer  of  Voltaiie,  235. 

Berkeley,  Dr.  George,  Voltaire's  opinion  of,  219. 

Berndoif,  Count,  favorite  of  King  George  II.,  122. 

Bernieres,  Madame  de,  Voltaire's  letter  to,  203. 

Berwick,  Marshal :  interview  with  Bolingbroke  at  Paris,  90 ;  testi- 
mony in  Bolingbroke's  favor,  1()6. 

Bessieres,  Mademoiselle,  Voltaire's  letter  to,  202,  203. 

Bladen,  Colonel  Martin,  furnishes  Voltaire  with  information  regarding 
Canioens,  222. 

Blaithwayte,  Mr.,  resigns  office  as  Secretary  of  War,  37. 

Bolingbroke,  Lord  Viscount,  characteristics  of,  6-14;  as  an  orator, 
13-61;  his  influence  on  English  literature,  14;  on  foreign  litera- 
ture, 15;  on  politics  of  his  time,  ib. ;  ancestry  and  lineage,  16; 
birth  at  Battersea,  18;  early  education,  18,  19;  honorary  doctor, 
().\ford,  20  ;  familiarity  with  classics,  20,  21 ;  riotous  youth,  21-23  ; 
erotic  poetry,  23  ;  Continental  tour,  23,  24  ;  stay  in  Paris,  conncc- 

11* 


250  INDEX. 

tioii  with  English  embassy,  24  ;  indifTereiit  poetry,  ib. ;  early  prof- 
ligacy, 25  ;  marries  Frances  AVinchescombe,  2G  ;  enters  Parliu- 
nient,  27;  guiding  motives  32  ;  assists  Hodges  in  bringing  in  bill 
for  further  Security  of  I'rotestant  Succession,  34  ;  introduces  bill 
against  Occasional  Conformity,  37;  sits  on  Commission  against 
Halifax,  ib.  ;  opposes  Koljert  Walpole,  ib. ;  Secretary  of  War,  38  ; 
owing  to  Marlborougli's  influence,  ib. ;  is  a  party  to  Ilarley's  in- 
trigues while  holding  office  under  Godolphin,  40 ;  resigns  his  seat 
in  Cabinet,  41 ;  devotes  himself  to  literary  pursuits,  42  ;  is  appoint- 
ed Secretary  of  State  for  Northern  Department,  4(j ;  his  prospects 
as  such,  47;  his  policy  and  double-dealing,  48;  publislies  a  pam- 
plilet  inscribed  "A  Letter  to  the  Ejcamincr"  49;  rises  into  emi- 
nence and  aims  at  Premiership,  56  ;  intrigues  witli  France  with  a 
view  of  concluding  peace,  ib.  ;  virtually  directs  affairs  and  creates 
twelve  new  peers,  60  ;  preliminaries  of  Treaty  of  Utrecht,  61  ;  aban- 
dons Allies  to  vengeance  of  Louis  XIV.,  62  ;  is  created  Viscount  of 
Bolingbroke,  ib. ;  his  growing  aversion  to  Oxford,  03;  his  being 
sent  on  a  mission  to  France,  ib. ;  his  triumphant  reception  there, 
ib. ;  is  betrayed  by  an  adventuress,  64  ;  by  his  damaged  reputation, 
ib. ;  superseded  by  the  Earl  of  Dartmouth,  ib. ;  resumes  his  duties 
as  Secretary  of  State  and  signs  peace  of  Utrecht,  65  ;  keeping  his 
treachery  to  the  Allies,  66  ;  public  feeling  growing  against  him,  08  ; 
determines  to  seize  the  reins  of  Government,  71 :  his  prospects  to 
that  effect,  72;  draws  up  the  Schism  bill,  ib. ;  his  growing  antag- 
onism to  Oxford,  ?'6.  ,•  feasts  the  chiefs  of  tlie  Whig  party,  73  ;  gives 
friendly  assurance  to  Gaultier,  74  ;  difficulties  of  his  position,  ib.  ; 
collapse  of  his  scliemes,  75  ;  his  position  at  death  of  Queen  Anne, 
81;  his  policy  in  consequence  of  this  event,  81,  82;  offers  his  ser- 
vices to  tlie  Elector,  81-83  ;  dismissed  from  his  post  as  Secretary 
of  State,  84;  is  I'cfused  admittance  to  the  King,  jZ<.,-  moves  an 
amended  address  in  defence  of  his  late  policy,  85  ;  is  being  charged 
l»y  Walpole,  86  ;  flees  the  country  and  retires  to  France,  87  ;  letter 
to  his  father  and  to  Lord  Lansdowne,  88;  inconsistency  of  his  ex- 
planations, 80;  puts  himself  into  communication  with  the  English 
embassy  at  Paris,  90 ;  opens  secret  negotiations  with  the  Pretend- 
er, ib. ;  retires  to  Dauphine,  ?6. ;  outlawed,  93;  allies  himself  with 
the  Jacobites  and  becomes  their  leader,  95  ;  his  interview  with  the 
Pretender,  90  ;  proceeds  to  Paris,  97  ;  endeavors  to  form  a  Jaeol/ite 
ministry,  ib.  ;  but  finds  his  efforts  nnavailing,  99  ;  sets  about  organ- 
izing Jacobite  movement  both  in  England  and  abroad,  100,  101; 
meets  with  reverses  and  disappointments,  103-107  ;  calumniated  by 
the  Jacobite  clique,  100;  accused  by  the  Earl  of  Mar,  and  by  Or- 
mond,  107  ;  is  rudely  dismissed  from  his  post  by  the  Chevalier,  ib.  ; 
is  being  sounded  by  Lord  Stair,  108 ;  expresses  his  desire  to  be  par- 
doned and  to  return  to  England,  108;  mingles  in  tl:e  social  life  of 
French  aristocracy,  109 ;  engages  iii^literary  pursuits,  110;  writes 
the  "Reflections  oa  Exile  "and  the  "Letter  to  Sir  William  Wynd- 
ham,"  ib. ;  accused  of  crimes  towards  the  Jacobite  party  in  the 
"Letter  from  Avignon,"  111 ;  meets  with  the  Marquise  de  Villette, 


INDEX.  251 

113;  marries  her  at  Ais-la-Chapelle,  114 ;  speculates  iu  the  Mis- 
sissippi scheme,  ib.  ;  removes  with  liis  wife  to  La  Source,  ih. ;  stud- 
ies at  La  Source,  114,  115  ;  "Letters  to  Pouilly,"  a  "Treatise  on 
the  Limits  of  Human  Knowledge,"  the  "  Reflections  on  Innate  Moral 
Principles,"  etc.,  115;  reputation  of  Archbishop  Tillotson,  ?6. ;  con- 
versational powers,  116;  intercourse  with  Voltaire,  %h. ;  influence 
on  Voltaire,  117;  solicits  the  intervention  of  Uu  Eois  and  of  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  120;  interview  with  Lord  I'olwarth,  121;  return 
to  England,  ib.  ;  meets  Attorbury  going  into  e.xile,  ib.  ;  arrives  in 
London,  ib.;  endeavors  to  secure  the  reversal  of  his  Bill  of  Attain- 
der, 121-125  ;  starts  for  Aix-la-Chapelle,  but  meets  with  no  success, 
123;  proceeds  to  Paris  and  finds  himself  in  dilemma,  124;  offers 
his  mediation  at  the  French  court  to  Walpole,  125;  returns  to  La 
Source,  126;  is  restored  to  his  civil  rights,  127;  his  double  life, 
ih. ;  influence  on  contemporary  politics,  131, 132  ;  his  exasperation 
against  Walpole  and  causes  of  same,  136;  is  organizing  the  Oppo- 
sition against  the  Walpole  Goveriunent,  ib.  ;  starts  the  journal,  the 
Crnftsman,  138;  publishes  in  same,  under  the  title  the  "Occasion- 
al Writer,"  three  papers  against  Walpole,  ib. ;  at  the  same  time  is 
intriguing  at  the  Court,  139;  solicits  an  interview  with  the  King, 
140;  but  is  unsuccessful.  j6.  ;  factious  opposition  to  the  Walpole 
Government,  142-144  ;  determines  to  appeal  to  the  people,  144  ;  in- 
flaming the  populace  against  Walpole,  145  ;  directing  all  the  move- 
ments of  the  Opposition,  150;  contributes  the  "Vision  of  Came- 
lick"  to  the  Craftsman,  ib. ;  publishes  in  same  "  The  Case  of  Dunkirk 
considered,"  151;  "Remarks  on  the  History  of  England,"  ib. ;  is 
creating  a  deep  impression  on  the  public  mind,  152;  writes  on 
"The  Policy  of  the  Athenians,"  153;  publishes  his  "Dissertation 
upon  Parties,"  ib.;  writes  with  a  view  of  obliterating  party  preju- 
dice, 155;  is  engaged  in  beautifying  his  country  residence  at  Daw- 
ley,  156 ;  letter  to  Swift,  ib.  ;  his  hospitality  to  English  friends  and 
to  Voltaire,  157;  his  friendship  with  Pope,  158;  influence  on  Pope, 
162, 163;  leaves  England,  163;  reason  therefor,  164,  165;  resides 
first  in  Paris,  165;  afterwards  in  Touraine,  ib. ;  begins  the  "Let- 
ters on  the  Study  of  History,"  166  ;  writes  the  "  Letter  on  the  Spirit 
of  Patriotism,"  167;  returns  to  England,  169;  stands  high  in  the 
favor  of  the  Prince  of  Wales,  ib. ;  assiduously  courts  him,  171 ;  his 
motive  for  doing  so,  ib. ;  writes  the  "Patriot  King,"  and  thereby 
greatly  influences  the  younger  school  of  politicians,  172-175  ;  writes 
the  "  Dissertation  on  the  State  of  Parlies  at  the  accession  of  George 
I.,"  175  ;  also  the  "  Reflections  on  the  Present  State  of  the  Nation," 
ib. ;  leaves  England  again  for  France,  ib. ;  returns  to  find  himself 
baffled,  176  ;  his  treachery  to  Pope,  177, 178  ;  his  misanthropy,  180  ; 
his  waning  influence,  ib. ;  death  of  his  wife,  181 ;  his  isolation  and 
growing  illness,  ib. ;  his  death,?/;.;  review  of  his  philosophical 
works,  182-187  ;  summary  of  his  character,  187. 
Bothmar,  Count,  protests  against  the  peace  being  signed,  57 ;  circu- 
lates a  report  with  a  view  of  throwing  the  Tories  off  the  track,  83  ; 
favorite  of  George  I.,  122. 


252  IxVDEX. 

Bourbon,  Duke  of,  assumes  tlic  reins  of  Government  in  France,  124. 

JJovle,  Mr.,  resigns  his  seat  in  the  Cabinet,  40. 

IJrinsilen,  John,  Bolingbroke's  Secretary,  204. 

Jirooke,  llonry,  his  literary  indebtedness  to  Bolingbroke,  15. 

IJroome,  Major,  liis  acciuaintance  with  Voltaire,  205,  foot-note. 

]>urgess,  Daniel,  tutor  of  Bolingbroke,  19. 

Burke,  Edmund,  his  literary  indebtedness  to  Bolingbroke,  14. 

Burnet,  Gilbert,  his  o[)inion  of  Ilarley,  55;  writes  against  the  peace 

being  signed,  57  ;  his  prognostication  to  the  Queen,  ib. 
Bute,  Marquis  of,  influenced  by  the  "Patriot  King,"  1*73. 
Butler,  Samuel,  his  "  Iludibraa  "  eulogized  by  Voltaire,  238  ;  Versions 

from,  ib. 
Buys  (Dutch  ambassador)  protests  against  the  peace  being  signed,  50. 

Camoens,  Luis  de,  Voltaire's  criticism  of,  222. 

Canella,  Salvatore,  bearing  testimony  to  tlie  influence  of  Bolingbroke's 
writings  on  Italian  literature,  15. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  his  hopelessness  as  to  gathering  information  about 
Voltaire's  stay  in  England,  192  ;  his  errors,  ib.,  foot-note. 

Caroline,  Queen,  thwarts  the  plans  of  the  Opposition,  142  ;  Dedication 
of  "Ilenriade"  to,  227. 

Carteret,  Lord,  instrumental  in  obtaining  a  pardon  for  Bolingbroke, 
121;  his  influence  at  Court  and  in  Government  circles,  122;  his 
power  declining,  123;  is  in  coalition  with  Newcastle  and  Hard- 
•wicke,  170. 

Catalans  shamefully  abandoned  by  Bolingbroke,  07. 

Charles,  Archduke  of  Austria,  eventual  successor  to  Spanish  mon- 
archy, 29. 

Chateauneuf  (author  of  "  Les  Divorces  Anglais"),  209. 

Chesterfield,  Lord,  opinion  of,  on  Bolingbroke,  7;  opinion  of  Boling- 
broke's elocutionary  powers,  118  ;  satrapian  habits  at  the  house  of, 
not  suiting  Voltaire,  230. 

Chetwood,  "  History  of  Stage  "  quoted,  202. 

Christie,  W.  D.,  11." 

Churchill,  Charles,  his  literary  indebtedness  to  Bolingbroke,  15. 

Gibber,  Colley,  202. 

Clarke,  Samuel,  denounced  by  Bolingbroke,  183  ;  highly  appreciated 
by  Voltaire,  217. 

Coderc,  Piracy  of  the  "  Ilenriade,"  228. 

Colet,  "Relics  of  Literature"  quoted,  204,  224. 

Collins,  Anthony,  220. 

Collins,  William,  his  indebtedness  to  Bolingbroke,  15  ;  gives  evidence 
as  to  Col.  Martin  Bladen,  222. 

Condorcet,  his  opinion  on  Voltaire's  stay  in  England,  191. 

Conduit,  John,  24G,  wofc. 

Conduit,  Mrs.,  207. 

Congreve,  William,  his  acquaintance  with  Voltaire,  207,  208. 

Cooke,  Wingrove,  author  of  a  biography  of  Bolingbroke,  4  ;  id.  of  a 
"History   of  Parties,"  ib.  ;   is  not   sufficiently  aware  of  the  in- 


IXDEX.  253 

fluence  Bolingbroke  had  on  the  intellectual  activity  of  his  age, 
79,  SO. 

Conibury,  Lord  :  "  Letters  on  the  Study  of  History,"  addressed  to,  by 
Bolingbroke,  166. 

Couvreur,  Adrienne  de,  215. 

Cowper,  Earl  of,  declines  to  enter  Harley's  Ministry,  46  ;  reads  the 
King's  speech,  85. 

Coxe,  Archdeacon,  testifies  to  Bolingbroke's  skill  in  plodding,  125; 
author  of  "Memoirs  of  Horatio  Lord  Walpole,"  126;  reason  he 
assigns  for  the  sudden  departure  of  Bolingbroke  from  England,  163. 

Cudworth,  Ralph,  denounced  by  Bolingbroke,  183 ;  studied  by  Vol- 
taire, 219. 

Cyprian,  Saint,  denounced  by  Bolingbroke,  183. 

Dadicht  suggests  an  alteration  of  the  opening  lines  of  the  "  Henri- 
ade"  to  Voltaire,  231. 

Darlington,  Countess  of,  122. 

Dartmouth,  Eail  of,  supersedes  Bolingbroke,  64. 

Davenant,  Charles,  solicited  by  Ilarley,  49. 

De  Foe,  Daniel,  14  ;  supports  Harley,  49. 

Denham,  Sir  John,  238. 

Desfontaines,  Abbe,  libels  on  Voltaire,  223. 

Dcsnoiresterres,  his  diligent  inquiries  respecting  Voltaire's  stay  in 
England,  192,  193. 

Dodington,  Bubb,  Secretary  of  Frederick  Lewis,  Prince  of  Wales,  110 ; 
is  a  Maecenas  of  men  of  letters  and  friend  of  Voltaire,  197. 

Dryden,  John,  his  influence  on  English  literature,  14;  first  acquaint- 
ance with  Bolingbroke,  23;  opinion  passed  on,  by  Voltaire,  237. 

Du  Bois  solicited  by  Bolingbroke  to  secure  him  a  pardon,  120. 

Dunoquet,  host  of  Voltaire  at  Calais,  193. 

Dunton,  John,  writes  against  the  Peace  of  Utrecht,  57. 

Duvernet,  biographer  of  Voltaire,  236, 

EcsEBius  denounced  by  Bolingbroke,  183. 

Falkener,  Sir  Everard,  intercourse  with  Voltaire,  197 ;  his  career, 
character,  and  death,  198. 

Fenton,  Elijah,  patronized  by  Bolingbroke,  7. 

Ferriole,  Madame  de,  correspondence  with  Voltaire,  103,  211. 

Fielding,  ITenrv,  prepares  to  refute  Bolingbroke's  philosophical  writ- 
ings, 182. 

Gallas,  De,  is  being  forbidden  the  Court,  57. 

Galway,  Earl  of,  supported  by  the  Whigs,  52. 

Gaultier,  Abbe,  his  interview  with  Bolingbroke,  74. 

Gay,  John,  his  actiuaintance  with  Voltaire,  207. 

George  L  landing  at  Greenwich,  84  ;  espouses  the  cause  of  the  Wiiigs, 

85  ;  grants  an  interview  to  Bolingbroke,  140;  departs  for  Hanover, 

iinii  dies  there,  141. . 


2ol  INDEX. 

Gibbon,  Edward,  his  literary  indebtedness  to  Bolingbroke,  14. 

Gloucester,  Duke  of,  death  of,  29. 

Glover,  Richard,  his  literary  indebtedness  to  Bolingbroke,  15. 

Godolpliin,  Earl  of,  first  Lord  of  the  Treasurj',  30 ;  character  and  ante- 
cedents of,  35;  policy  of,  3(5 ;  his  downfall,  42 ;  review  of  his  ad- 
ministration, and  deserving  traits  of  same,  42,  43 ;  reasons  of  its 
collapse,  41. 

Goldsmith,  Oliver,  biography  of  Bolingbroke,  4;  his  literary  indebted- 
ness to  Bolingbroke,  14 ;  his  statement  about  the  publication  of 
the  "Henriade,"227. 

Green,  Robert,  quoted,  246,  note. 

Greg,  scandal  of,  41. 

Grinioard,  General,  author  of  "Essai  Ilistorique,"  4 ;  reasons  which 
he  assigns  for  sudden  departure  of  Bolingbroke  fronr  England,  103. 

Guiscard,  Antoine  de,  character  and  antecedents  of,  53  ;  ac(iuaintauce 
with  St.  John,  54  ;  stabs  Ilarley  in  a  surreptitious  assault,  ib.;  mo- 
tives therefor,  55. 

Halifax,  Earl  of,  declines  to  enter  Harley's  ministry,  46. 

Ilanmer,  Sir  T.,  author  of  the  Representation,  61 ;  moves  an  adjourn- 
ment of  the  consideration  of  Walpole's  report,  93. 

Ilarcourt,  Sir  Simon,  is  ignored  by  the  King,  84. 

Hardwicke,  Earl  of,  his  correspondence  with  Bolingbroke,  9. 

Harley,  Robert  (vide  Oxford,  Earl  of). 

Harley,  Thomas,  his  arrest,  91. 

Harlington,  Lady,  promise  given  by  Bolingbroke  to,  \^9,  foot-note. 

Hedges,  Sir  Thomas,  appointed  Secretary  of  State,  30 ;  removed  from 
Ministry,  39. 

Hervey,  Lady,  poetry  dedicated  to,  by  Voltaire,  209. 

Hervey,  Lord,  his  Memoirs,  149, /oo^Ho^e;  friendship  with  Voltaire,  209. 

Hill,  Aaron,  opinion  passed  on  by  Bolingbroke,  7. 

Hobbes,  Thomas,  studied  by  Voltaire,  219. 

Hooker,  Richard,  his  influence  on  English  literature,  14, 

Howard,  Leonard,  219. 

Howard,  Mrs.,  favorite  of  the  Prince  of  AVales,  139  ;  powerless  to  as- 
sist Bolingbroke  after  the  death  of  the  King,  142, 

Hume,  David,  his  indebtedness  to  Bolingbroke,  14. 

ISOCRATES,  11. 

Jamks  II.,  death  at  Saint  Germain,  33. 

James  the  Pretender,  character  of,  94 ;  his  interview  with  Boling- 
broke, 95 ;  dallies  at  St.  Malo,  105;  hurries  off  to  Scotland,  i6./ 
dismisses  Bolingbroke,  107. 

Jersey,  Earl  of,  retirement  from  Secretaryshi|)  of  State  (1700),  30; 
resigns  his  seat  in  the  Ministry  [anno  1702),  37, 

Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  conformity  of  his  political  opinions  with  those 
of  Bolingbroke,  173. 

Junius,  his  literary  indebtedness  to  Bolingbroke,  14. 


INDEX.  253 

Keate,  George,  242. 

Kendal,  Duchess  of,  her  animosity  against  Walpole,  139  ;  is  patron- 
izing Bolingbroke,  ib. 

Lansdowne,  Lord,  written  to  by  Bolingbroke,  88. 

Leibnitz,  G.  W.  de,  denounced  by  Bolingbroke,  183, 

Lopel,  Molly,  vide  Hervey,  Lady. 

Lewis,  Erasmus,  letter  to  Swift,  aneut  Bolingbroke's  fitness  for  the 

post  of  Prime-niinister,  74. 
Lewis,  Frederick  (Prince  of  Wales),  at  open  war  with  his  father,  169  ; 

!iis   character   and    temper,  109,  170;  half -reconciled   with    the 

King,  176. 
Locke,  John,  Voltaire's  admiration  for,  218,  219. 
Louis  XIV.  (King  of  France),  sympathy  with  the  Jacobite  cause,  99  ; 

his  death,  102. 
Lovat,  Simon  Lord,  198. 

Lvttelton,  Lord,  "Letter  on  the  Spirit  of  Patriotism"  inscribed  to,  by 
"Bolingbroke,  168. 

Macaitlat,  Lord,  his  literary  indebtedness  to  Bolingbroke,  14. 

Macknight,  Thouias,  author  of  Life  of  Bolingbroke,  4,  6;  not  suffi- 
ciently aware  of  the  influence  Bolingbroke  had  on  the  intellectual 
activity  of  his  age,  79,  80. 

Mallet,  David,  biographer  of  Bolingbroke,  3  ;  under-secretary  of  Fred- 
erick Lewis  (Prince  of  Wales),  170;  his  mercenary  and  unscrupu- 
lous conduct  towards  him,  179. 

Manton,  Dr.,  author  of  a  hundred  and  ninety  sermons  on  the  119th 
psalm,  19. 

Mar,  Earl  of,  receives  instructions  from  Bolingbroke,  104 ;  but  has 
already  anticipated  them,  ib.;  accuses  Bolingbroke  of  incapacity 
and  negligence,  107. 

Marlborough,  Duchess  of,  opinion  held  by,  of  Robert  Ilarloy,  31 ;  is 
forbidden  the  Court,  52;  is  sought  after  by  Voltaire,  208  ;  who  is 
invited  to  draw  up  her  Memoirs,  ib. 

Marlborough,  Duke  of,  8  ;  military  operations  on  the  Meuse,  35 ;  as- 
sists Bolingbroke,  38  ;  opposed  to  Saeheverers  impeachment,  43  ; 
his  inordinate  ambition,  45  ;  arrives  in  England,  52  ;  interviews 
with  Bolingbroke,  ?6.;  arrives  from  the  Hague  and  takes  counsel 
with  the  Chiefs  of  the. Opposition,  57;  delivers  impressive  speech 
in  Parliament,  58,  59;  is  removed  from  command,  60 ;  joins  the 
Jacobite  movement,  101. 

Masham,  Mrs.,  her  influence  on  Queen  Anne,  44  ;  becomes  a  favorite 
at  Court,  52. 

Matignon,  Marquis  de,  advances  money  to  Bolingbroke,  164, 

Mesnager,  arranges  preliminaries  of  peace,  58  ;  his  suite  engages  in 
a  contest  with  the  suite  of  Van  Rechthercn,  Holland,  04. 

Milton,  John,  not  sufliciently  appreciated  by  Voltaire,  205,  206;  dili- 
gently perused  by  Voltaire,  237, 

Montague,  Earl  of,  attack  on,  28. 


256  INDEX. 

Montesquieu,  De,  liis  literary  indebtedness  to  Bolingbrolce,  15  ;  give.5 
aceount  of  debate  in  Parliament,  /.c,  Dunkerque  fortilieations,  14G, 

Morgan,  accessary  to  Bolingbrolce's  escape  from  England,  87. 

Morvilie,  Count  de,  recommends  Voltaire  to  Horace  AValpole  the 
elder,  197. 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  liis  death  commented  on  by  Voltaire,  207;  Vol- 
taire's anecdotes  of,  ib. ;  the  falling  apple,  246, 7iote. 

Nicolerdot,  Estimate  of  Voltaire's  gain  by  the  "Ilenriade,"  228. 

Nottingham,  p]arl  of,  disagrees  with  liis  Ministerial  colleagues,  37 ; 
hands  in  his  resignation,  «6./  consents  to  move  resolution  against 
peace,  57  ;  does  so  in  Parliament,  58. 

Oldfield,  Anne,  215. 

Oldmixon,  John,  writes  against  peace  being  signed,  57. 

Orford,  Earl  of,  iiupiiry  into  the  administration  of,  28. 

Orleans,  Duke  of,  Regent  of  France,  undecided  attitude  in  Jacobite 
movement,  103  ;  is  solicited  by  Bolingbroke  for  pardon  by  English 
Government,  120;  death,  124.' 

Ormond,  Duke  of,  ignored  by  King,  84 ;  deserts  his  post  as  lieutenant 
Jacobite  movement,  102  ;  sails  for  Devonshire,  104. 

Orsini,  Princess,  supervising  construction  chateau  Chantaloup,  1G5, 

Otway,  Thomas,  238. 

Oxford,  Earl  of,  antecedents,  physique,  characteristics,  30,  31 ;  is  ap- 
pointed Lord  Treasurer  (y)  in  Godolphin's  Ministry,  37  ;  his  intrigues 
while  holding  office,  40;  is  removed  from  office,  41  ;  influences 
Queen  Anne  against  the  Whigs,  44  ;  is  appointed  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer,  45 ;  hires  the  Press,  49  ;  is  confronted  by  the  feeling  of 
the  extreme  Tories,  63 ;  falls  iU,  ib.;  is  wounded  by  Antoine  de 
Guiscard's  dastardly  assault,  54 ;  reaps  the  benefit  of  it  through 
enhanced  popularity  and  royal  favor,  55  ;  organizes  a  committee  to 
inquire  into  expenditure  of  Godolphin  Ministry,  ib.;  withdraws  seals 
of  State  from  I3olingbroke  and  confers  them  on  Earl  of  Dartmouth, 
64;  becomes  more  and  more  irresolute,  69 ;  is  removed  from  of- 
fice, 73;  is  openly  insulted  by  King,  84. 

Partojj,  biographer  of  Voltaire,  193;  erroneously  attributes  to  Vol- 
taire an  English  edition  of  Brutus,  235. 

Patrick,  Dr.,  author  of  "Mensa  Mystica,"  18. 

Pelham,  Henry,  quoted,  141. 

Pemberton,  Dr.  Henry,  Voltaire's  acquaintance  with,  218  ;  assists  Vol- 
taire in  studying  Newton,  ib. 

Peterborough,  Earl,  supported  by  Tories,  52 ;  host  of  Voltaire,  205  ; 
Voltaire's  treachery  to,  243,  244. 

Philip,  King  of  Spain,  claims  right  of  succession  to  the  throne  of 
France,  102. 

Philips,  John,  poet  and  student  of  Christ  Church,  20. 

Pitt,  William,  opinion  of,  on  Bolingbroke's  eloquence,  8  ;  literary  in- 
debtedness to  Bolingbroke,  14. 


INDEX.  257 

Pitt,  Andrew,  the  Quaker,  Voltaire's  acquaintance  with,  213. 

Platen,  Countess  of,  favorite  at  Court,  122. 

Pohvarth,  Lord,  solicited  by  Bolingbroke  with  view  of  obtaining  par- 
don, 121. 

Pope,  Alexander,  correspondence  with  Bolingbroke,  9 ;  perfidious 
treatment  at  the  hand  of  Bolingbroke,  ib. ;  his  literary  indebtedness 
to  Bolingbroke,  15  ;  his  attachment  to  Bolingbroke,  158,  and  stim- 
ulus he  received  from  him,  159;  difficulty  to  fix  the  amount  of 
indebtedness  he  owed  to  15olingbroke,  lCO-162;  his  unbounded 
admiration  of  Bolingbroke,  162,  163;  ungratefully  dealt  with  by 
Bolingbroke,  177;  reasons  therefor,  178,  179;  his  acquaintance 
sought  after  by  Voltaire,  200,  201 ;  decoys  and  exposes  him,  210; 
Voltaire's  opinion  of,  241 ;  last  interview  with  Voltaire,  244. 

Poree,  Pere,  Voltaire's  letter  to,  232. 

Port,  Adam  de,  ancestor  of  Bolingbroke,  16. 

Prior,  Matthew,  correspondence  with  Bolingbroke,  9 ;  writes  from 
Paris  complaining,  65 ;  believed  by  Bolingbroke  to  have  turned 
State's  evidence  against  him,  86 ;  is  arrested,  90;  Voltaire's  opin- 
ion of,  238. 

Pulteney,  Daniel,  his  antecedents  and  character,  133. 

Pultcncy,  William,  his  antecedents,  character,  and  talents,  134,  135; 
his  hostility  to  Walpole,  how  caused,  135;  bluntly  deprecates  fur- 
ther co-operation  of  Bolingbroke,  164;  writes  to  Swift  anent  Bol- 
ingbroke's  sudden  departure  from  England,  165 ;  is  in  coalition 
with  Newcastle  and  Ilardwicke,  176. 

Baby,  Lord,  letter  from  Bolingbroke  to,  &o,footno(c. 

Ilechtheren,  his  suite  engages  in  a  contest  with  the  suite  of  Mesna- 
ger,  France,  64. 

Re'aiusat,  De,  author  of  a  study  on  Bolingbroke,  5 ;  confounds  the 
"Letter  to  Sir  William  Wyndham  "  with  the  "Letter  to  Wynd- 
ham,"  111 ;  reason  he  assigns  for  Bolingbroke's  sudden  departure 
from  England,  164;  uncertainty  concerning  Voltaire's  stay  in  Eng- 
land, 192. 

Pwidpath,  George,  writes  against  the  peace  being  signed,  57. 

Kochcstcr,  Earl  of,  resigns  his  seat  in  the  Ministry,  37 ;  succeeds 
Somers  as  President  of  the  Council,  46 ;  heads  the  Opposition  to 
Harley,  53  ;  his  death,  55. 

Eoscoinmon,  Earl  of,  Voltaire  reads  his  poems,  237. 

Kuffhead,  Owen,  relates  incident  relative  to  Pope,  200;  also  244, /oo^ 
note. 

Saciievf.rel,  Dr.,  impeachment  of,  by  Godolphin,  43;  reasons  of 
same,  ib. 

Schaub,  Sir  Luke,  English  Ambassador  at  Paris,  creature  of  Boling- 
broke, 122;  is  at  loggerheads  with  the  partisans  of  Walpole,  124. 

Seymour,  Earl  of,  resigns  his  seat  in  Ministry,  37. 

Shakespeare,  William,  Voltaire's  indebtedness  to,  235,  236;  liis  real 
opinion  of,  236,  237. 


258  INDEX. 

Slicilock,  Rev.  Martin,  quoted,  221,  212. 

Shrewsbury,  Duke  of,  .secedes  from  the  Tory  party,  "75 ;  supports  the 
motion  in  defence  of  tlic  Jiolingbrokc  Ministry,  86 ;  joins  the 
Jacobite  movement,  101. 

Soniers,  Earl  of,  disapproves  of  Saeheverel's  impe  u-limcnt,  43  ;  dis- 
approves of  Bolin^^broke's  bein>;  declared  an  outlaw,  93. 

Somerset,  Duchess  of,  becomes  a  favorite  at  Court,  52. 

Somerset,  Duke  of,  is  dismissed  from  office,  60. 

Spence,  Kev.  Joscpli,  quoted,  200 ;  foot-note,  211,  223. 

St.  John,  Henry,  vide  liolingbroke. 

St.  John,  Henry,  the  elder,  marries  Mary,  second  daughter  Earl  of 
\Var\vick,  17 ;  commits  nmrder  and  seriously  jeopardizes  his  life, 
ib.  ;  dies  at  Battersea,  170. 

St.  John,  John,  member  of  the  Council  of  Nine,  16. 

St.  John,  Oliver,  is  appointed  Lord  Deputy  of  Ireland  and  created  a 
baronet  of  Trcgoze,  10. 

St.  John,  Walter,  marries  Joanna,  daughter  of  the  Chief-justice,  16; 
founds  the  school  at  Battersea,  17. 

Stair,  Lord,  interview  witli  Bolingbrokc,  90;  demands  surrender  of 
Jacobite  flotilla,  104 ;  receives  instructions  to  sound  Bolingbroke, 
108 ;  does  not  commit  liimself  to  any  pledge  about  Bolingbroke's 
pardon,  109. 

Stanhope,  Earl  of,  accuses  Bolingbroke  of  having  distrained  State 
papers,  86 ;  declines  to  accede  to  Hanmer's  motion,  93  ;  keeps 
Bolingbroke  in  expectancy  re  his  pardon,  109. 

Steele,  Richard,  attempts  made  by  Ilarley  to  subvert  liim  prove  un- 
successful, 50  ;  writes  against  the  peace  being  signed,  57. 

Suffolk,  Lady,  retires  from  Court,  164. 

Sunderland,  Eail  of,  is  appointed  Lord  Treasurer  by  Godolphin,  39 ; 
disliked  by  Queen  Anne,  40;  keeps  Bolingbroke  in  expectancy  re 
his  pardon,  109. 

Suiidon,  Lady,  210. 

Swift,  Jonathan,  his  description  of  Bolingbroke's  character,  6;  cor- 
respondence with  Bolingbroke,  9 ;  and  causes  of  rupture,  ib. ;  his 
influence  on  English  literature,  14  ;  impression  on,  created  by  Lady 
Bolingbroke,  26  ;  puts  his  pen  at  the  service  of  the  Ilarley  Ministry 
and  edits  the  Examiner,  50;  his  eminent  fitness  for  the  post,  50, 
51 ;  writes  for  the  peace  being  sigtied,  57  ;  prognosticates  a  felon's 
fate  to  the  Earl  of  Oxford  and  to  himself,  59  ;  endeavors  to  inter- 
pose between  Bolingbrokc  and  Oxford,  72  ;  writes  to  Peterborough 
about  state  of  public  affairs,  73  ;  is  fast  sinking  into  imbecility, 
176;  his  previous  acquaintance  with  Voltaire,  205;  his  being 
written  to  by  Voltaire,  225  ;  and  is  much  admired  by  him, 
239. 

Tankkuville,  Lord,  is  appointed  Lord  Privy  Seal,  30. 

Tavlor,  Jeremv,  14. 

Taylor,  John,  230. 

Thieriot,  correspondence  with  Voltaire,  203,  211,  218,  225,  230,  230; 


INDEX.  259 

is  encouraged  by  Voltaire  to  uiulevtake  tlie  translation  of  Swift's 
"  Gulliver's  Travels,"  239  ;  correspondence  with  Voltaire,  245. 

Thomson,  James,  his  literary  indebtedness  to  Dolingbroke,  15;  is 
highly  thought  of  by  Voltaire,  239. 

Tillotson,  Archbishop,  written  against  by  Bolingbroke,  115;  de- 
nounced by  Bolingbroke,  183. 

Torcy,  De,  not  the  superior  of  Bolingbroke,  8. 

Towjisheni],  Lord,  is  voted  enemy  to  his  country,  60 ;  is  instrumental 
in  obtaiinng  a  pardon  for  Bolingbroke,  120;  retires  from  the  Cab- 
inet, 145. 

Valliere  and  Bara,  affair  of,  41. 

Vanbrugh,  Sir  John,  Voltaire's  plagiarism  from,  238. 

Villiere,  Marquis  de,  intrigues  for  a  dukedom,  1'16,  foot-7wte. 

Villiers,  Second  Duke  of  Buckingham,  points  of  resemblance  with 
Bolingbroke,  12. 

Villette,  Marquise  de,  her  antecedents,  attractions,  acquaintance  with 
Bolingbroke,  113;  marriage  at  Aix-la-Cliapelle,  114;  goes  to  Lon- 
don to  ])lead  her  case  in  a  lawsuit,  and  is  successful,  126,  127  ;  her 
death,  181. 

Voltaire,  Fraii9ois  Arouet  de,  liis  indebtedness  to  Bolingbroke  attest- 
ed by  Condorcet,  15  ;  first  acquaintance  with  Bulingbroke  at  La 
Source,  116;  feelings  of  respect  and  veneration  entertained  by, 
towards  Bolingbroke,  118;  peculiarity  of  influence  of  Bolingbroke 
on  Voltaire,  119-121;  his  release  from  the  Bastile,  193;  stay  at 
Calais,  ib. ;  disembarks  at  Greenwich,  \h. ;  impressions  during  las 
voyage,  194  ;  first  impressions  on  setting  foot  on  English  soil,  194- 
196  ;  arrival  in  London,  196;  and  is  a  guest  at  Bolingbroke's  house, 
ih. ;  is  I'ccommended  to  Bubb  Dodington,  197  ;  previously  was  caned 
by  the  Chevalier  de  Rohan,  199;  devotes  himself  to  learning  the 
English  language,  ib. ;  makes  the  acquaintance  of  Pope,  200;  awk- 
ward incident  happening  at  this  interview,  201j  leaves  England 
for  France  and  returns  again,  202 ;  his  disappointment  in  money 
affairs  and  family  afflictions,  202,  203 ;  his  correspondence  with 
French  friends,  203,  204  ;  his  opinion  of  Pope,  204 ;  his  opinion  of 
Milton,  205 ;  his  views  on  English  habits  and  customs,  206  ;  is 
present  at  the  f imeral  of  Sir  Isaac  Xewton,  and  comments  thereon, 
207;  is  invited  to  draw  up  the  Memoirs  of  the  Duchess  of  Marl- 
borough, 208 ;  his  opinion  of  the  beauty  of  English  women,  209 ; 
dedicates  a  poem  to  Lady  Ilervey,  iii. ;  acts  as  a  political  emissary 
to  the  Court  of  St.  James,  210;  is  decoyed  and  exposed  by  Pope, 
ib. ;  endeavors  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  Court  and  with  Wal- 
pole,  211  ;  and  is  looked  down  upon  by  Bolingbroke  and  friends, 
ib.;  his  fulsome  flattery  and  indecent  conversation,  212;  is  collect- 
ing materials  for  his  new  works,  213;  comments  on  the  religious 
life  of  England,  ?i. ;  notes  the  dilferenees  between  English  and 
French  social  life  and  the  advantages  of  the  former,  214-216  ;  his 
scrap-book,  217;  has  the  works  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton  explained  to 
him  by  Dr.  Clarke,  217;  makes  the  acquaintance  of  Dr.  Peinber- 


2C0  INDEX. 

ton,  218;  becomes  familiar  with  the  works  of  Locke,  of  Bacon,  of 
Ilobbes,  and  oC  Ciuhvorth,  218,  219;  studies  Berkeley,  219;  iden- 
tiiies  lilmself  with  the  movement  originated  by  Collins  and  Wool- 
ston,  220 ;  and  assists  Woolston  financially,  ib.  ;  publishes  two  es- 
says in  the  English  language,  220-222 ;  goes  to  reside  in  Maiden 
Lane  and  in  Billiter  Square,  224 ;  solicits  the  patronage  of  the 
Earl  of  Oxford,  225 ;  is  being  highly  spoken  of  by  English  press, 
225,  226  ;  publishes  "  llenriade,"  220  ;  dedicates  it  to  Queen  Caro- 
line, 227 ;  and  is  highly  succossful  with  sale,  227,  228 ;  is  robbed 
by  piratical  booksellers,  228,  229  ;  but  realizes,  nevertheless,  a  hand- 
some reward,  228 ;  domestic  trouble  and  indifferent  health,  230 ; 
alters  opening  lines  of  "llenriade,"  231;  sharjjly  criticised  in  a 
French  pamphlet,  ib.  ;  meets  with  a  mishap,  but  cleverly  extricates 
himself,  232,  233;  undertakes  his  "History  of  Charles  XIL,"  also 
"Brutus,"  234,  235;  prepares  a  tragedy,  "La  Mort  de  Cesar" 
and  the  "  Lettros  Philosophiques,"  235,  236;  proposes  to  open  a 
French  theatre  in  London,  236 ;  studies  the  works  of  Shakespeare, 
and  is  inspired  by  them,  ib. ;  peruses  the  works  of  all  the  classical, 
and  a  great  many  of  the  minor,  poets  and  prose  writers  of  Eng- 
land, 236-240 ;  prepares  for  return  to  France,  241;  grateful  re- 
membrance borne  by  him  to  England,  242;  disparaging  stories 
circulated  about  the  causes  of  his  departure,  243,  244  ;  leaves  Eng- 
land, 245  ;  anecdote  of  Newton's  apple,  246,  note. 

Waller,  Edmund,  opinion  passed  on  by  Voltaire,  238. 

Walpole  (Horace  the  elder)  gives  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Voltaire 
for  Bubb  Dodington,  197. 

Walpole,  Sir  Robert,  his  college  studies  at  Eton,  19;  opposed  to 
SachevereFs  impeachment,  43 ;  is  imprisoned  in  the  Tower,  00 ; 
speaks  in  opposition  to,  and  charges  Bolingbroke  with  faithless- 
ness to  his  King,  86 ;  directs  a  Commission  of  Liquiry,  90 ;  and 
brings  in  a  Bill  of  Attainder  against  Bolingbroke,  93 ;  declines  to 
accede  to  Ilanmer's  motion,  ib.  ;  meets  Bolingbroke's  overtures 
with  a  blunt  rebuff  and  with  a  warning,  123;  paralyzes  Boling- 
broke's offer  of  mediatorship  at  the  French  Court,  126  ;  is  strenu- 
ously opposed  to  restore  Bolingbroke  to  his  civil  rights,  126;  at 
last  forced  to  do  so  by  the  King,  127  ;  replies  to  the  "Occasional 
AVriter"  of  the  journal,  the  Craflsman,  138;  advises  the  King  to 
grant  Bolingbroke  an  interview,  139;  is  becoming  alarmed,  /6.; 
passes  through  a  critical  period  after  the  death  of  the  King,  141  ; 
maliciously  attacked  by  the  Opposition,  145-150;  is  attacked  by 
Sir  William  Wyndham',  150;  resumes  office  for  another  seven 
years,  i6.;  is  becoming  unpopular,  153;  alliance  wilh  C;irdin:il 
Fleury,  165  ;  resigns  his  Ministry,  170. 

Walsingham,  Lady,  her  animosity  against  Walpole,  140. 

Wiiitelield,  Georgi?,  7. 

William,  Prmce  of  Orange,  difficult  position  of,  27;  proroguing 
Parliament,  33  ;  arrived  in  London  and  remodels  the  Ministry,  34  ; 
his  death,  ib. 


INDEX.  261 

Wilaiot,  Earl  of  Rochester,  the  prototype  of  youthful  libertines,  22. 

Wiuchescombe,  Frances,  daughter  of  tjir  Henry  W.,  marriage  of,  with 
Henry  St.  John,  20 ;  lier  affection  towards  him  and  subsequent 
estrangement,  ib.;  her  death,  113. 

Wright,  Sir  Nathan,  resigns  his  seat  in  Ministry,  37. 

Wyndham,  Sir  William,  his  correspondence  with  Bolingbrokc,  60; 
warrant  made  out  for  his  arrest,  103;  letters  to,  from  BolingbroUe, 
110,  111;  his  position  as  leader  of  the  Hanoverian  Tories,  136; 
attacks  Walpole  in  Parliament,  150;  receives  letter  from  Holing- 
broke  explaining  his  sudden  departure  from  England,  164. 

YocNG,  Edward,  the  poet,  his  acquaintance  with  Voltaire,  205  ;  dedi- 
cated one  of  his  poems  to  him,  ib. ;  author  of  an  epigram  on  Vol- 
taire, 206 ;  assists  him  in  revising  manuscript  of  his  English  essays, 
223. 


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